


Secrets

by lpfan503



Series: Confession Series [2]
Category: Linkin Park
Genre: F/M, M/M, Secrets, Sexual Tension, bennoda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 190,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lpfan503/pseuds/lpfan503
Summary: Ten years pass between the first time Chester falls asleep in Mike's bed on tour and the beginning of their physical relationship. This is the story of the events leading up to Mike and Chester realizing they are in love with each other.





	1. Part One: MTM -- Link

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel-prequel to Confession, which is meant to be read first. Even though the timeline of Secrets is prior to the start of Confession, this story is meant to be read second, with the idea that you have the knowledge of what happens later already in your head. So if you haven’t read Confession, please start here:
> 
> Confession: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12757836/chapters/29104485

[May 28, 2007]

The last thing Mike did before laying down was unlock the door that connected to Chester’s room. 

He knew the vocalist would be wandering in, fresh from his shower, any minute now. It had become one of their favorite parts of being on tour, hanging out post-show until the wee hours as the adrenaline wore off, talking about anything and everything, eating take out and channel surfing, occasionally getting some song writing done as well. Mike’s hair was still damp from the shower and he was arranging a towel behind his head so as not to get his pillow wet when Chester pushed the door open, rolling his eyes at the routine he’d seen repeatedly.

“You’re so fucking particular,” he teased, sitting down on his side of the bed in his matching black and gray plaid flannel pajama pants and long sleeved shirt. “There’s like, four pillows on this bed. You can sleep on a different one if that one gets wet,” he pointed out.

Mike shrugged as he made himself more comfortable on the now protected pillow. “Knowing you, you’ll take those extra pillows with you back to your room. I’ve never understood why you need to many pillows to sleep,” he teased back. “I think you must need something to cuddle.”

“You know me too well,” Chester agreed as he peeled back the bedspread covering the sheets. “What I don’t understand is why it always has to be so fucking cold in your room.” He slid under the sheets and bedspread and grinned at Mike. “You’re part polar bear, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think polar bears actually like the cold, Ches.” He was perfectly comfortable in the room with the air blasting as high as it could go. “Nobody forced you in here.” The smile across his features took the sting from his words, and Chester knew the emcee was just giving him a hard time.

“Whatever, Shinoda,” he said, burrowing into the mattress and stuffing a pillow behind his back. “Anything good on?” 

Mike glanced over at the television that he had on mute. “I hadn’t looked, really.” As he reached for the remote his glasses slipped down his nose a bit, and he pushed them up as he settled back onto the towel covered pillow. “You already call Tal?” 

He’d already talked with Anna before he’d showered, which was by design. It was part of their nightly routine while he was on tour. Just thinking about her sweet, sexy voice on the line was enough to get his blood warming again. _She’s so awesome, always dropping everything or waking up no matter what time zone I’m in so we can catch up. I know her days must get really lonely while I’m out on tour. I really miss her._

“Yeah, she’s having a rough time. Tyler’s teething and not sleeping well. She sounds exhausted.” Frowning, Chester paused and looked at Mike. “Is it terrible for me to say I’m glad we’re out on tour and missing that?”

A small corner of Mike’s mind was envious. He and Anna had been talking about starting a family, but so much had been going on the past several years with Fort Minor and the new Linkin Park album that it just didn’t seem like the timing was right. Added to that, Chester’s horrible divorce from Sam and all of the support Mike had given Chester during those months… and the time and opportunity passed as Linkin Park went back out on tour. He had watched Chester welcome his fourth child into the world mere months after he married Talinda, and Mike longed for a baby in his arms, his own son. Carefully, he said, “No, I don’t think it’s terrible to want to be able to sleep… but don’t you miss him?”

“Of course I do!” Chester was quick to say, pulling the blankets tighter around his face and yawning, wide and deep. “It sucks to be away from your kids. I just meant I was grateful to not have to be the one dealing with all the crying. God, I sound like a terrible parent.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mike rushed to say. “I just… well, you know Anna and I have been talking about kids. I guess I was just thinking about how hard it will be, once we do have some, to go out on tour. I don’t know how you do it,” he said with admiration in his voice. “I know it must be hard.” 

Chester nodded, peering up at Mike though his glasses. “When are you guys thinking of having a baby?” His eyes seemed smaller than usual behind the lenses, some undefined emotion lurking within them.

Mike sighed and looked up at the ceiling, tracing out patterns in the texturing with his eyes. “I don’t know. Anna’s been a bit reluctant with our tour schedule and all. I kind of don’t blame her. I hate to think of leaving her all alone, with all of that responsibility. I want to be there, you know? I don’t want to miss things, first smiles and steps and teeth and all that…” Mike’s voice drifted off as he thought about what it would be like to be a dad, suddenly realizing that he was pointing out all the things Chester was missing by being out on tour. 

“Yeah… I’ve missed a lot with Tyler… and Dra, and Jaime. Isaiah, too.” Chester was still looking at Mike, studying his profile. “I wonder if they will even like me when they grow up. They barely know me,” he finished quietly.

Mike wondered how their conversation had turned so serious so quickly. He was accustomed to Chester being hard on himself, but usually when they were together after a show it was all smiles and laughter. Something about tonight felt different. He shifted onto his side and looked over at Chester, the forlorn look on the vocalist’s features tugging at his heart. Mike recognized it as the beginning of the hateful self-talk spiral Chester tended to descend into when discussing his personal life. “You’re a great dad, Ches. I’ve seen you with them. All that stuff I said, I wasn’t really thinking.” He reached over for Chester’s hand and folded it into his own, squeezing his fingers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Chester squeezed his fingers back for a moment, then pulled his hand away to reach for his glasses. The movement made Mike frown. He’d been expecting to comfort the vocalist a little more than that, and now he felt even worse about what he’d said. “Ches? I’m sorry.”

The glasses were placed on the bedside table and Chester turned back to Mike, reaching for and lacing their fingers together before pulling them under the blanket, next to his chest. “It’s ok… I know you weren’t trying to bother me with what you said. I just always feel like I’m missing everything with Jamie and Dra, and now I’ve got _another_ kid with _another_ woman and I’m always gone… there’s just not enough of me to go around.” He paused and closed his eyes wearily. “I want them to know me but sometimes it’s just easier to not be there. It’s easier to not deal with the disappointment on their faces when I leave. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear and not have to deal with any of it.”

It was darker in Chester’s head tonight than it had been for a while, more than he had realized, and Mike’s heart ached. _I really thought when everything was over and done with Sam and he’d moved on with Talinda this would get better. I really thought she was most of the problem._ He tugged on their interlocked hands, pulling them together, Chester under the blankets, Mike on top, and Mike slung his free arm around the blanket covered huddle that was his friend. “Come here, Ches. It scares me when you start thinking this way… I know how your head starts talking to you, and I want you to know how much it would kill me if you disappeared. And the guys. And your kids, and Talinda… we’ve talked about this a lot, actually… and I’m so glad you’re sharing with me and not keeping it inside.” He squeezed Chester close again in a hug and went to roll back onto his side of the bed, but the vocalist clutched his hand harder, keeping Mike next to him.

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” he murmured, his eyes still closed. “Just beating myself up over shit I can’t change.” 

“Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re amazing,” Mike whispered, the words of encouragement rolling off his tongue naturally as they always did. It was Mike’s role in their friendship, had been for years. He always worked to lift Chester up, to help him see his worth and how special he was to the world when he was in these dark places. Truthfully, Mike was terrified to let Chester out of his sight when he started in on the self-deprecating talk, for it usually led to destructive actions that they were all trying too hard to get Chester to break free from for good- drinking, drugs, various forms of self harm he could come up with wherever he was… the alarm bells in Mike’s head were telling him to let Chester stay the night in his room. It felt like the kind of night his friend would be likely to end up at the hotel bar, drinking himself blind before morning while the other five members of the band slept peacefully. Mike was committed to keeping Chester sober, no matter what it took. “I’ll put on a movie and you just relax,” he suggested soothingly, his voice low and calm.

Chester cracked his eyes open a bit and looked at Mike, their faces just inches apart. For some reason he couldn’t identify, Mike’s breath caught in his chest as they looked at each other, as he read the self-hatred in Chester’s eyes, as Chester’s warm breath fanned over his face. Just as Mike blinked the moment passed, and he heard Chester saying, “if I lay here too long I’ll fall asleep in your bed, Mikey.” 

With effort, Mike rolled onto his other side and reached for the remote, his voice still coming out calm as he said, “don’t worry about it, Ches. I’m here if you need to talk.” He blinked as the television came to life, feeling a little disoriented as he heard Chester sigh next to him. Randomly selecting a movie, he looked over as he made himself comfortable. “I’m here,” he repeated, and watched Chester’s eyes slide closed, their hands still linked under the blankets.

**********

_It’s warm out here. But not too warm. It’s actually kind of nice._

Mike looked around in awe of his surroundings. _This is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this before._ He was standing in the middle of a clearing, somewhere he knew in the back of his mind that he’d never been, but it felt familiar anyway. Gazing around, he took in the sight of the delicate pink flowers among the lush green leaves, the way the sunlight sparkled through the air, the sound of rushing water as a waterfall poured from high above where he was standing. As he looked around he smiled when he saw the rest of the band, standing at the edge of the clearing, and he reached a hand toward them, beckoning them closer. Just as the glint of sunlight off his cufflink caught his eye, Brad said something to him, but he couldn’t hear it, and he frowned, scanning the group of his friends again. Where was Chester? Why wasn’t Chester there with them? 

Another quick scan of the area, and Mike knew it was true. Chester wasn’t there. He felt his heart seize inside his chest. Where had he gone? When would he be coming back? Did this have anything to do with what he’d said earlier about kids? And if it did, how did they end up in this tropical heaven when he knew they were in the Netherlands? 

Suddenly Mike’s unconscious mind realized he was dreaming. The dream started to fade as he became more aware of his physical body, felt himself waking up in his bed. As he went to stretch his arms, he became acutely aware that he was not alone. Opening his eyes, he felt the shock ripple through him as he looked directly into Chester’s face, soft and peaceful in sleep, his body tight against Mike’s side, warm little puffs of air hitting Mike’s skin as he breathed deeply and steadily. 

What happened to his shirt? How had he ended up under the blankets?

He sucked in a breath as he realized Chester’s leg was entwined between his own, his arm slung over Mike’s bare chest. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, freezing cold on top of the blankets with Chester asleep beside him. Remembered pulling off his t-shirt that he could never sleep in and peeling the blanket back on his side of the bed, too tired to move to the little sofa in the suite. Remembered the warmth that engulfed him immediately when he slid under the blankets next to his friend before falling back asleep almost instantly. What he didn’t remember was how Chester had come to be snuggled against his side like he belonged there. Even if it was startling, the heat and weight of Chester’s body wasn’t exactly unwelcome, he thought. Tour life was lonely, and-

Mike stopped his train of thought before it continued down that path. With his fingertip, he carefully, softly ran his finger down Chester’s nose, gazing sleepily at his dark lashes against his pale cheek, the smoothness of his forehead unburdened with worries, his soft pink lips and the tiny scar underneath, and he smiled lightly before he felt Chester’s body tense slightly in a small stretch... then his eyes fluttered open.

Their sleepy eyes met, their faces close, and Mike felt his stomach stir at the proximity of Chester’s leg to his dick. There was a slight sparkle in Chester’s eyes as he looked at Mike, the corners of his lips tipping up invitingly. 

_What is wrong with me?!_

“Hey,” Chester breathed out softly, his expression tender as he kept his eyes locked on Mike’s. 

It felt as though Mike couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think, as he lay there with Chester wrapped around him, waiting for him to speak. His mind was completely blank, and right as he started to panic, unable to think of what to say in regard to the situation in which they had awoken, Chester untangled their legs and playfully slapped Mike’s stomach.

“Let’s go eat! I’m starving!” 

Mike watched as he bounced up from the bed, his entire demeanor different from the night before, full of energy and smiles as he made his way into his own room.

“Come on, get up! I’m getting dressed, you’ve got five minutes, Shinoda!” he yelled over his shoulder, through the door in which he’d just passed.

Mike sat up in the bed, trying to make sense of what had just happened and realizing as he fumbled for his glasses that he must have also taken those off in the middle of the night. There was a low ache in the pit of his stomach he couldn’t identify. It didn’t feel the way he felt when he woke up hungry. It was the way he felt when they’d been on tour too long, when he’d not been able to catch Anna for a little phone sex and relief. _That’s it, I’m just horny, just missing my wife. It’s got nothing to do with Chester. It was nice to have someone to sleep next to… but that’s all. And it won’t happen again. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough once he realized where he was._

As he raked his fingers through his hair and stumbled out of bed toward the bathroom to take care of business, Mike caught a flash of his dream again, the glimmer of a gold cufflink flashing through his mind. He shook his head and laughed at himself. _Dreams are so weird. Why would I ever wear cufflinks out to look at a waterfall in some tropical location? Cufflinks are for award shows… and weddings..._

He was brushing his teeth and looking into the mirror at his mussed black hair before he remembered that he also hadn’t been wearing his wedding band in the dream. Glancing down at his left hand, he felt reassured to see the platinum and diamond band was still securely around his ring finger. Before he could even analyze what the dream could have possibly meant, Chester popped into his vision in the mirror, talking about bacon, and the rest of the images from the night before faded from Mike’s mind as he turned to follow his friend down to breakfast.


	2. Part One: MTM -- Positive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thing: the Mike and Chester we left at the end of Confession are not the Mike and Chester we are meeting at the start of Secrets. That just wouldn’t make any sense. I don’t want to explain any more than that, just know that eventually, this Mike and Chester we are starting with will evolve into the Mike and Chester we start Confession with. Make sense?

Mike had been preoccupied all morning with thoughts of Chester wrapped around him in bed. It was a vision that wouldn’t go away, the way their bodies had felt pressed together, the weight of Chester’s leg and arm, the warm breaths on Mike’s skin… He felt oddly unsettled, bewildered even, at the inability to set the event aside as Chester had clearly done, and move on from it. He was distracted at breakfast and irritable as they embarked on the day’s travel. The band was headed to France, the flight short, the evening unplanned. Usually he’d go sightseeing with Chester when there was time off, but today he wasn’t sure he was in the mood.

 _Jesus. I feel like I need a little alone time right now… it must be time for a break, we’ve been on the road too long. That has to be it. When was the last time I had sex?_ As he followed Chester onto the plane, Mike was mentally calculating the days since he’d last been with Anna, attributing his inability to focus on his pent-up and unresolved desires for his wife. _Almost three weeks until we’re on break, and a month since we were last at home… maybe I’ll feel better once I talk to her tonight._

It didn’t help his state of mind when Chester settled in beside him on the plane, his feet bouncing nervously against each other, and without thinking, Mike reached over and stilled one knee with his hand. Immediately Chester covered that hand with his own, linking their fingers together and squeezing them tightly.

Looking down at their hands, seeing them the same way he’d seen them on every flight they’d taken since… well, since they’d started flying, Mike was struck again by the image of waking up next to Chester just hours earlier. What was it about waking up next to him this morning that had him so out of sorts? He glanced up from their hands at Chester’s profile, his lips set in a thin line of displeasure.

“I hate flying,” Chester mumbled in his general direction, and Mike smiled softly. 

“I know. You always have.” Mike’s smile turned into a full on grin as he teased, “I should have thought to ask that in your audition. Any fears of flying? We’d have gone with our second choice.”

After Mike’s misstep with the talk of children last night, his joke fell flat. It went too far, too soon, and Chester grimaced, his displeasure of flying turning quickly back to that same haunting negative expression of self-hatred. “You’d have probably been better off,” he said bitterly, not bothering to look at the mirth in Mike’s expression to know he was only teasing.

“Damn, Ches, I was joking,” Mike scrambled to say quickly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to us, you know that. We wouldn’t be flying anywhere if it weren’t for you.” _How do I keep fucking this up? I’m usually better at reading his moods than this._ When Chester moved to pull his hand away, Mike tightened his hold on Chester’s hand. “Hey, look at me.”

Bottomless brown eyes turned to him, defeat written across the vocalist’s features. Chester sighed and shrugged. “There’s a lot of guys that can scream, Mike. You didn’t have to end up with a clingy, depressed alcoholic that needs constant babysitting like me.”

It was Mike’s turn to sigh, and he shook his head. “Ches… stop it. You know as well as I do that _this_ -” he pointed around them, at their bandmates, “wouldn’t exist without _this_.” He lifted their joined hands and smiled at Chester. “There’s something special about our voices together, Ches, something I’ve never heard with anyone else, and it’s only getting better over time. You’ve helped me, encouraged me so much, and my singing voice is getting so much better, stronger… able to compliment you.” Mike squeezed their fingers together and watched Chester battle with his thoughts before he finally sighed again.

“I have no idea what’s wrong with me, Mike. I’ve been ridiculous the last few days.” Chester looked genuinely perplexed at his mood swings. 

After ten years together, there really was no “I” in anything anymore. Mike and Chester were a unit, and Mike didn’t even hesitate as he said, “we just need a break, I think. How about instead of going out sightseeing tonight, we stay in? Order room service? Talk it out like we used to do when we had to share a room?” Mike grinned. “The early days, you know?”

“The days you always ended up rooming with me because nobody else could put up with me, you mean?” Chester wasn’t about to let go of his melancholy mood easily.

“That’s not true,” Mike protested. “And besides, even if it were, I choose you now. Every time.” He was unaware that his voice and his eyes had softened as he looked at Chester, their eyes locking for a moment as Chester tried to decipher whether there was any additional meaning behind Mike’s words.

Chester knew he was being a pain in the ass, and he begrudgingly acknowledged to himself that it was at least a little bit because he wanted Mike to come to his rescue. He’d been toying with thoughts of the emcee for years, long before he’d had the courage to leave Sam, but had never found the courage to tell Mike how he felt. The idea of fucking up their friendship was what held Chester back, but after waking up snuggled next to Mike this morning… Chester sighed. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep from telling Mike that he was in love. With him. He was in love with Mike Shinoda, and it was amazing and awful, all at once. He distinctly remembered Talinda pointing out to him in the early days of their relationship that he was in love with Mike, and how utterly depressing he’d found the realization to be. Mike was happily married, to a woman, and all Chester would ever be, _could ever be_ , was his friend. And now Mike was thinking of starting a family, and once that happened, he would be completely unreachable. 

Chester shoved the thoughts of children and marriage and Talinda out of his head and looked down at their hands. “You mean it, Mikey? You aren’t here just because you’re stuck with me?” He knew he was shamelessly seeking reassurance now, but he needed it, and Mike never failed to deliver.

“Of course, Ches. I choose you. I’ve always chosen you.” He leaned to the side and bumped Chester’s arm gently with his own. “Now… tell me you want to stay in tonight and I’ll make it happen.” 

Mike’s eyes were shining with anticipation, and Chester couldn’t say no even if he _had_ wanted to go out and explore Paris, more than he wanted to eat room service and talk for hours and lay in Mike’s bed. There was nothing he wanted more than to fall asleep in Mike’s bed again, to feel the solid comfort of his warm body as he slept, to enjoy nightmare free sleep with his protector at his side. He bumped Mike’s arm in return. “Yeah… let’s stay in tonight.”

With a triumphant grin on his face, Mike leaned his head back into the seat and closed his eyes, whispering, “just relax, Ches. It’s a short flight. We’ll be in Paris before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Chester whispered back, his eyes never leaving Mike’s face, his heart full of longing.

**********

Before he’d even set his bag down, Mike unlocked the connecting door to Chester’s room, knowing full well that the vocalist would be washing his face and hands before he even ventured into the room. The idea of staying in with Chester was exciting, and Mike grabbed the room service menu as he flopped down on the foot of the bed, waiting. He could hear the water running in Chester’s bathroom as he scanned the list, his eyes landing on steak and lobster. _That sounds amazing right now. And dessert. I want dessert, too._ As he was deciding between raspberry or chocolate sauce for his cheesecake, Chester appeared beside him, smelling like the lavender soap he coveted from a spa he frequented back in LA. 

“What’s for dinner?” He sat down on the bed next to Mike and rested his chin on the emcee’s shoulder as he peered at the menu. “Oh, God, steak and lobster for me.”

Mike laughed and tossed the menu on the small table by the window. “That’s what I was going to have.”

“Great minds,” Chester said, falling back onto the bed, his legs dangling to the floor. “You know what else, Mikey?”

“What’s that?” 

“We should go ahead and shower, I’m tired of these clothes. I just want to get comfortable.” He looked at Mike, his dark eyes unreadable.

Mike didn’t hesitate, standing immediately and pulling his shirt off from the collar. “ _Yes._ I’m ready to relax. I already told the guys we were staying in tonight, they shouldn’t be bothering us.” He looked at Chester as he pulled off his socks, immediately feeling self conscious when he realized Chester was staring right at him, watching him undress. _This is stupid. We’ve seen each other undress a million times. What is wrong with me today?_ Mike shook his head and tossed his socks in the general direction of his suitcase. “You gonna go shower or just sit there staring at me?” 

Without missing a beat, Chester rolled off the bed and headed back toward his room. “You wish, Shinoda,” he tossed over his shoulder, mimicking Mike’s movement and pulling his shirt off from behind his head.

Mike only looked after him for a moment before he headed into the bathroom, dropping the rest of his clothing in his wake. He turned on the shower and stood in front of the mirror, having a conversation with himself. _That was weird. He must feel weird about last night too. Was he staring at me? I’m probably overreacting. He hasn’t said anything about last night but I feel like we should say something about last night. But it doesn’t seem like it’s bothering him, and I kind of liked having him there when I woke up. Ah! What is wrong with me! We can’t sleep in the same bed. But… it was nice to sleep in the same bed. God, I don’t know. We’re going to have to talk about it._

His mind tumbling through thoughts at a million miles per hour, Mike reached into the shower and got the water started. The bathroom filled with steam in a matter of minutes, and he stepped inside, leaning his head back into the water, running his fingers over his short hair. As the water cascaded over him, he trailed his fingers along his skin, following the running rivers, tracing down his neck and chest and stomach. _I need to start running again, I feel like I’ve put on a little weight. Maybe I should go to the gym with Ches tomorrow._ He lathered up a sponge and started cleaning the feel of stale airplane air off his skin, his mind drifting to thoughts about tomorrow’s set. The bubbles were thick on his body and he was thinking about the last show, about watching Chester during their piano interlude… and a moment later he realized he was lazily stroking himself, caught up in thoughts of the way Chester’s neck looked when he leaned back in the spotlight, the breaths he knew intimately, the sound of his voice… 

_What am I doing?_ Jerking his hand away from his dick, Mike’s eyes flew open and he looked at the shower curtain guiltily, as though there were someone there to see him, someone who could read his thoughts. _I really, really need a break, to go home, to get Anna on the phone… something. This is ridiculous. This has nothing to do with Chester. I’m just fucking horny._

He hurried through the rest of his shower routine, toweling off roughly before he looked at himself in the mirror again. The flush on his cheeks didn’t lie- he’d been thinking about Chester and starting to get himself off. Feeling embarrassed, Mike turned on the cold water and splashed some on his face, toweling off again, then sliding into his boxers and a t-shirt even though he knew he’d never fall asleep in the shirt. There was something about the way a shirt clung too high on his neck that bothered him while he was sleeping, made him feel like he was choking every time he shifted in bed. He checked his face and decided he looked calm enough to face Chester again.

As he stepped into the bedroom he felt the blast of cold air and saw Chester already huddled under the blankets. “I already ordered for us, I hope that’s okay. I’m starving.” Before Mike could object, Chester went on. “Medium on the steaks, and I ordered dessert, too. Cheesecake and chocolate sauce.” 

_Chocolate it is, then, Ches._ “How did you know I wanted dessert?” Mike sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Chester’s big brown eyes that were waiting for his approval. “Sounds great,” he said, then he gestured toward the blankets. “I guess I have the air down too low for you again, huh? Let me turn it up.”

Chester’s hand shot out from under the blanket and caught Mike’s arm before he could even stand up. “No! I mean, it’s fine. I’m perfectly warm under here. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he went on, his voice beginning to sound uncertain. “Too warm, I mean. But, maybe you don’t want me to be cold because you don’t want me in your bed? I mean… are you uncomfortable that I’m in your bed?” Chester held his breath and looked up at Mike, his eyes perfectly irresistible, framed in thick, dark lashes.

It felt as though Chester’s hand were scorching his arm, and Mike glanced down to be sure the hand wasn’t on fire before he spoke. “No, Ches. It doesn’t bother me. You’ve made yourself at home in my bed a hundred times before. But…” Suddenly Mike couldn’t resist the urge to bring up their awkward morning anymore. He had to know if it had been on the vocalist’s mind as much as it had been on his own. “I was thinking, earlier...” Mike’s voice was cautious, his eyes flicking around the room before landing back on Chester’s face. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.” _There. That wasn’t so bad._

Immediately Chester pulled his hand away from Mike, waving it in front of his face like he was swatting at an annoying fly. “I know… I’m sorry, you know how I get sometimes. It’s like on the plane. One negative thought leads to another negative thou-”

“No,” Mike interrupted, turning closer to Chester, determined. “That’s all fine. I don’t mind you talking through those feelings, Chester, I want to be there, I want to help you with that. What I meant, what I wanted to talk about…” he stopped and took a deep breath, then plowed right in. “I wanted to talk about us sleeping together last night.”

Mike watched the emotions slide across the vocalist’s face. Confusion at first, then a flicker of sadness, suddenly replaced by caution. “Umm… yeah… I’m sorry about that.” 

“No, stop apologizing, there’s nothing to be sorry for-”

“Sorry! I mean! Okay! I just I’m sorry if I made you feel awkward this morning-”

“I don’t feel awkward, do you feel awkward?” Mike’s heart was racing, and he wasn’t even sure why. He’d felt off all day and he wanted to just get this conversation over with so he knew what to expect, what was on Chester’s mind.

Shaking his head, Chester took a deep breath. “No. I don’t feel awkward about it. In fact, I was thinking, while you were sleeping on the plane…” He bit his lip and looked at Mike straight on, no shame in his eyes. “I was thinking it was the best night of sleep I’d had on this whole tour. On any tour, actually.”

A tentative smile started to spread across Mike’s face. “Yeah? Why do you think that is?”

“This is going to sound stupid-”

“Nothing you say ever sounds stupid, Ches,” Mike encouraged, interrupting for the third time that evening. 

Smiling, Chester rolled his eyes. “Well, we both know _that_ isn’t true. Anyway, it probably sounds stupid, but I think it’s because you were protecting me. From the nightmares. I didn’t have any last night.” He looked up at Mike as his expression dropped, his dark eyes troubled. “I always have them, you know,” he said quietly. “But for some reason, I didn’t have one last night. And I think that reason is you.” 

Mike felt the weight of those words sink into him as he looked into Chester’s eyes. He knew that nightmares plagued his bandmate, he’d become aware of that fact early on when they’d spent all their time on the tour bus. He’d been the one to rouse Chester from those nightmares several times, but ever since they’d started spending more of their travel time flying than driving, it hadn’t occurred to Mike that the vocalist might still be struggling with those demons. He slid down on the bed and put his arms around Chester, drawing him in close to his chest in a tight hug.

“I didn’t know, Ches… I had no idea you were still having nightmares.” His heart ached for Chester. “If me being next to you helped… then you know you’re welcome to stay with me anytime you need to. Anytime.” He rubbed circles into Chester’s back soothingly, and they lay together for moments before Mike’s phone began to ring.

Reluctantly, Mike reached for the phone, glancing first at the screen and then at Chester. “It’s Anna,” he said, sitting up and accepting the call.

Frustrated, Chester slid away, whispering to Mike that he was going to go to the bathroom. Once inside, in front of the mirror, he considered himself. Unruly, curling brown hair. One eye slightly larger than the other. The beginnings of crow’s feet in the corners of those eyes- and he was only thirty-one! That giant nose and those lips, too thin to be considered sexy. He was an addict. An alcoholic. Codependent. An absent father. The list went on and on. It was a good thing he could sing, he thought. What other redeeming qualities did he have?

He narrowed his eyes at himself in the mirror. All of those thoughts were the bad kind, the kind Mike said he should ignore. He turned and listened, could hear Mike still on the phone with Anna, his voice honey smooth and low as he talked to his wife. All he wanted right now, all he needed, was Mike’s reassurance. Mike’s unwavering belief and strength. He wanted all of Mike’s attention for himself. It was a dangerous head space to be in, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of ways to be closer to Mike. 

When he was finished in the bathroom he headed back to the connecting room, anxious to climb in bed next to Mike and find a way to get the emcee’s arm around him again. He was trying to ignore the sweet goodnight murmurings between Mike and Anna as he came back from the bathroom, halting in front of the bed as Mike hung up the phone and looked at him. 

“Anna said she had a surprise for me. She’s sending me some picture.” He glanced down at the Blackberry in his hand, waiting for the email to come through. They both heard the phone vibrate, and Mike clicked around for a moment before he cocked his head to the side and stared at the screen. “It’s a picture of… a pregnancy test?” Mike looked up at Chester, whose mouth had dropped open as he looked down at Mike’s phone.

The space between Chester’s eyes had furrowed in concentration as he looked at the picture upside down, and he gasped as the realization hit them both at the same time. “Mike… it’s positive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so mad at myself! I thought Tyler and Otis were one year apart, and I wrote Confession that way… apparently my research failed, he was born in 2009, so they are 3 years apart in real life. Damnit. So I’m going to have to manipulate their birthdays a bit… Tyler’s moving to the end of 2006 and Otis’ to the beginning of 2008. Sorry about that.


	3. Part One: MTM -- Secrets

For a few moments, both men were stunned silent, looking at the picture on Mike’s phone. Then Mike looked up, and all Chester could see was the absolute joy in his bandmate’s eyes. It was a breathtaking sight.

“Oh my God, Chester! I’m going to be a dad! Oh my God!” Mike catapulted off the bed and into Chester’s arms, squeezing him close in an excited hug, his face obliterated by the biggest smile Chester had ever seen. “I’ve got to call Anna back, oh my God!” He looked down at the phone for a second, and then back at Chester. “I can’t believe it. I didn’t think it would happen so fast.”

That caused Chester to smile wryly, a bit of a snort escaping as he commented, “you have no idea, man. One minute you’re having a good time with your girlfriend, the next thing you know you’ve got a baby on your arm. It’s crazy.” He shook his head in gentle amusement.

Mike continued to babble on excitedly. “I mean, she just stopped taking the pill in February, we talked about it a lot before I left, but I didn’t think… wow. I mean… wow. I have to call her back.”

Chester stood next to the bed, debating with himself as Mike called Anna back, listening to her happiness through the line as Mike asked what seemed like twenty breathless questions back to back. He didn’t know how their night was going to go now that Mike totally preoccupied with thoughts of babies. It wasn’t hard to feel the same excitement Mike was feeling- he had the kind of smile, the kind of laugh that drew you inside, no matter how shitty you felt. He watched Mike pace the floor in front of the bed, talking animatedly with his free hand, and couldn’t help but smile as well, despite the sinking disappointment he felt seeping into his bones. 

The knock of room service on the door was a welcome distraction and Chester made his way to open the door, Mike catching his eye on the way over. “I love you, too, hon. So excited! Dinner is here, though, I’ve got to go… no… no, it’s late here, we have a show tomorrow, so I’ll call you after that… yeah… okay… I love you. ‘Nite.” He hung up the phone as Chester carried a tray into the room. 

“Damn, Shinoda, you’re practically glowing,” Chester smiled in his direction. “Congrats, man. You guys sound excited.” He went to put the tray down on the table by the window but Mike intervened.

“I thought we were eating in bed!” The sparkle on his face hadn’t receeded yet, and Mike looked at Chester, his face still split in a huge grin. “We’re celebrating tonight, right?” A flicker of uncertainty hit his eyes as he watched Chester waver for a moment with the tray.

“Of course we’re celebrating! But… how are we going to eat steak and lobster in the bed? Dessert, maybe, but I’m not going to try cutting a steak while balancing a plate on my lap.” Setting the tray down, he looked at Mike expectantly. “I feel like champagne is in order!”

The smile dissolved off Mike’s face slowly as he thought about champagne. _This is a moment for celebration. But… alcohol and Chester? Right now, as down on himself as he’s been the past few days? I don’t think that’s a good idea._

As if Chester were reading his mind, he answered Mike aloud. “It’s _just_ a glass of champagne, Mikey. I can handle it. C’mon, this is a big moment!” He picked up the phone to dial out again, undeterred by the wrinkle of worry between Mike’s eyes. 

_It will be okay. I’m here, and it’s just one bottle between the two of us. He won’t overdo it, I’ll be here._ “Okay, yeah. _One_ bottle, Chester. And no more, okay?” Mike watched Chester roll his eyes as he ordered champagne up to the room, adding strawberries as a careless afterthought. He felt a shift in the air as Chester put the phone down and came back to the table, reaching for Mike and slipping an arm around his waist to pull him close.

“I mean it, Mike. Congrats. There’s nothing like being a dad. You don’t even know how much you can love someone else until you’re holding your child and looking at that face for the first time… your kid is going to be lucky to have you as a father.” He squeezed Mike close and was pulling away when Mike suddenly turned, wrapping his arms around the vocalist and preventing him from moving.

The embrace was tight and warm, scented with lavender and Mike’s clean smelling soap, and he turned his lips into Chester’s cheek, breathing in deep and skimming the skin lightly before resting with the tip of his nose close to the little black plug in Chester’s ear. “Thanks, Ches. I’m excited but I’m scared. All that stuff we were talking about last night… I… I just want you to know, I have the same fears.” He pulled back and looked at Chester, but found his eyes expressionless, unreadable. “I want my kids to like me, too… and I wonder if they- mine, yours, any of the guys’- I wonder if they will get that we love them, even when we aren’t around.” 

Chester’s eyes dropped to Mike’s lips, watching the way he formed the words he was speaking, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, just once… he took a step back and Mike released him, his expression wistful. “Let’s not go there right now, huh? Let’s eat, champagne will be here, and then it’s dessert and cartoons, right?” Chester wiggled his eyebrows up and down, drawing a giggle again from Mike. 

“Okay, yeah, let’s eat. I’m actually starving,” Mike said as he rolled the desk chair over to sit opposite Chester at the little table. 

The strawberries and champagne arrived midway through dinner, and Chester insisted that Mike be the one to open the bottle. Mike couldn’t help the misgivings he still felt as he poured the flutes and handed one to Chester, their fingertips brushing lightly as he passed off the glass. He looked at Chester when he felt the spark between their fingertips, but Chester was already raising the champagne flute to toast his friend.

“To baby Shinoda,” he said simply, and Mike clinked his glass to Chester’s, his eyes still on Chester’s face as he took a sip of the forbidden alcohol. He watched the corners of Chester’s lips tip up in a smile, his eyes slide closed as he leaned his head back and savored the taste. Mike was frozen, enjoying the pleasure sweeping across Chester’s features, when he opened his eyes and looked directly at Mike. “Mmmm… that’s good stuff. Don’t you think?”

With his head already a little fuzzy with emotions, Mike hummed an agreement as he looked down at the label. _Dom Perignon_. “It should be, for what it’s probably costing us.” Raising his eyes back to Chester’s, he caught the annoyance in his friend’s eyes as he scoffed at the tone in Mike’s voice.

“If I’m only getting a glass, it’s going to be worth it.” Holding Mike’s gaze, he reached for a strawberry and popped it in his mouth, taking a sip of the champagne and holding in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed, chewing the strawberry last and then swallowing the sweet fruit as well. “You should try that, Mikey. It’s _so good._ ”

 _What is that tone in his voice?_ Mike couldn’t look away as Chester pushed the bowl over to Mike. He picked up a strawberry and copied what Chester had done. The champagne sparkled and bubbled around the fruit, fizzy on his tongue before he swallowed. “Yeah… that _is good_.” _What is that tone in my voice?_

They looked at each other for long moments before Chester smiled slowly, his eyes entertained. “We’re such dorks, Shinoda. Who else orders room service while they’re in Paris? We’ll be asleep by eight like a couple of old men if we aren’t careful.”

Mike chuckled, the spell broken, and set down his champagne flute. “Nothing wrong with getting a good night’s sleep, Ches. We can sightsee a bit in the morning if you want.” He started to cut into his steak again, his mind spinning with Chester and tomorrow’s set and babies… he was having a baby. Just the way he’d been planning since he went off to college. Marry a nice girl, have a couple of kids, live a respectable life… he never thought that respectable life would have to be lived in the public eye, but such was the burden that came with the charmed existence he had as Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park. He’d had no idea when he pledged marriage and kids to himself that Chester Bennington would waltz into his life and turn everything upside down. 

His eyes skipped over to Chester, who was still nursing his glass of champagne with joy. Brown eyes twinkling at him, the very tops of his flamed wrists showing at the edge of his long sleeved pajama shirt, his chest rising and falling under that shirt in shallow breaths… Mike thought about the first time he’d seen Chester, the instantaneous attraction he’d felt toward the other man, and the crushing moment when he’d learned Chester was married to Sam. It was over before it could even start, and Mike had re-committed himself to the vision of his life as he thought was supposed to live it. He’d never dreamed that Chester would be their ticket to the life they had now, the life he and Brad had only dreamed of back on his parent’s roof under the stars. A life that smashed him and Brad, him and Chester, together at every turn. A life he re-committed himself to every morning he woke up on tour, the day fresh in front of him, the temptation of Chester always right there. A temptation he could never give in to, a temptation that Chester would never want anyway, and a temptation that would destroy his carefully cultivated life. 

_I love my wife,_ he thought as he chewed slowly. _I don’t regret one second with her. And this thing I feel for Chester? That’s a secret I can take to my grave. I’m content with being his friend. That’s all he wants to be, my friend. I love my wife._

There was no way for Mike to know that Chester was holding a secret of his own close and dear to his heart. No way for Mike to know that as he’d pulled Chester from the depths of his drug addiction and abusive marriage that he’d fallen in love with his savior, his protector, his musical partner. No way for either man to know that as open and honest as they were in song-writing, there were still so many secrets between them.

He watched Chester finish off the glass and reach to pour another under the emcee’s watchful eye. “Maybe. We’ll see what time we wake up in the morning.” He topped off Mike’s champagne and placed the bottle back in the little cooler. “The rest is yours, drink up.”

Mike was the one who shoved the two trays outside the door a half hour later before joining Chester in his bed. Neither of them were really affected by the amount of alcohol consumed, but Mike felt pleasantly relaxed as he handed over Chester’s cheesecake, leftover strawberries on the side of the plate in the chocolate sauce. They had both propped pillows on the bed, including the ones from Chester’s room, and were leaning back into the mound of pillows as they shared dessert over a couple of ridiculous cartoons. The last strawberry on Mike’s plate was being dragged through the leftover chocolate sauce when he felt Chester lean to the side and place his plate on the bedside table.

Chester scooted back down into the pillows and pulled the blanket high under his chin, looking at Mike as he ate his final bite. “Fuck, that was a good dinner. I wish we had more of that champagne…”

“Yep. I’m so full now, I feel like a whale. And no more alcohol. I knew I should have said no to that.” Mike set his plate on the table on his side of the bed and ran his hand over his stomach, already distracted from the pout Chester was throwing his way. “I feel like I’ve gained weight. I probably need to start working out with you, or something.” He sighed, then scrubbed the side of his face with the back of his fingers, the black whiskers making a soft scraping noise. “I can see it in my face.”

“Maybe a little,” Chester agreed, looking up at Mike. “I hadn’t really thought about it. If you have it’s not much.” The emcee’s face might be a little rounder, he conceded to himself, but he wasn’t about to tell Mike that. He knew Mike was more than a little self-conscious about his looks, despite being so easy on the eyes. That black hair that he’d almost had a heart attack over when Mike shaved it during Fort Minor, those soulful eyes and their thick, dark lashes, that perfectly proportioned nose and those gorgeous full lips… Chester was convinced that Mike had no idea how beautiful he was. 

“Ugh, I didn’t think you’d agree!” Mike fussed, his eyebrows knitted together with worry. “Is it bad?” He turned on his side and faced Chester, poking at his stomach.

“God, Shinoda, chill out! I mean, we could probably solve the problem by not eating dessert every night.” Chester laughed as he smacked the hand away from Mike’s stomach. The wounded look on Mike’s face calmed him a little. “I mean, if it’s bothering you, let’s go for a run in the morning. We can knock out sightseeing and working out all at once.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mike mumbled, looking down at his stomach again. “Just know it’s been a while. I’ll be slow.”

“Like you were ever fast?” The sparkle in Chester’s eyes was dangerous as he looked at Mike, daring him to act. 

As quickly as he’d made the remark, Mike slung a pillow out from behind his back and whipped Chester in the face with it. “Fuck you, I used to be kinda fast!”

Muffled laughter came from under the pillow, then Mike heard, “what, like a ten minute mile?” 

Picking up the pillow, Mike swatted Chester again as he brought his hands up to protect his face. “No, damnit, I could keep pace with you, remember?” Mike got a few more good smacks in and then he was laughing, too, as Chester shrieked from under the pillow.

“I… don’t… rem… ember… that!” Chester finally shoved the pillow away and pushed it into Mike, who fell back into the rest of his pile of pillows, grinning. “I’ll dial it back a bit for you tomorrow morning, maybe an eight minute mile so you can keep up.”

“Damn, thanks, that’s awfully generous of you.” Mike stuffed the offending pillow back up behind him and turned on his side, his hand snaking out to capture Chester’s. “Have I told you lately how glad I am that you’re in my life?” The playfulness was dropping from his eyes as he looked at Chester, and Chester was instantly serious.

Spellbound once again by each other, Chester opened his mouth to say something but Mike rushed ahead. “I know you’ve been feeling a little down the last few days, and I just wanted to remind you how much fun we have together, Ches. None of the other guys would be lying here with me right now, relaxing, just hanging out… I love these quiet times in our crazy lives. I’m glad we were here tonight to get Anna’s news instead of out in Paris somewhere. I’m glad I got to celebrate with you first.” He stroked his thumb over Chester’s fingers before he squeezed his hand and let go, tucking his fist under his chin as he looked at Chester.

The words settled into the pit of Chester’s stomach like a stone. He felt the heaviness of his secret desires resting alongside what Mike had just said, and he had no idea how to respond. A quiet moment passed and then he offered, “You’ll never understand how much you can love your wife until the moment she brings your child into the world. It’s… so amazing that women can do that. One of those mysterious, wonderful things only a woman can do. You know?”

The serenity in Mike’s expression slowly changed to something resembling resignation, and he said quietly, “yeah. I do love her. So much.” A deep sigh followed, and then he blurted out, “sometimes I feel like I’m just in a different world than she is, Chester. Just like you were saying last night, what if she resents me for being gone? What if the baby resents me for being gone? What if I end up hating myself for… for _liking it_ when I’m away, when it’s just me and you… that’s how you were feeling last night, and I don’t want to feel that way!”

A heavy silence fell between them as they each contemplated Mike’s words. It was true, there were nights like last night that Chester was grateful to be on the road and away from the drudgery of ‘home life’, and then he would turn around and hate himself for feeling that way. He knew exactly what Mike was talking about and he didn’t know what to say to make it better, he only knew how to validate the way Mike was feeling. “It isn’t going to be easy, Mike. You guys knew that, you said that when you were talking about _maybe_ having a baby. Well, now maybe is here and there’s nothing you can do but your very best to love that baby and love Anna when you’re home.” He inched closer to Mike, their knees almost touching under the blankets.

Mike felt the heat from Chester’s body so near and he closed his eyes, wondering if they would end up in each other’s arms again that night. “Thanks, Ches… we’re both a bit of a mess now, aren’t we?”

“At least we’re a mess together,” Chester whispered, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at Mike’s dark lashes, as he inhaled the clean smell of soap and laundry detergent coming from the inhabitant of other side of the bed. “Now… are we gonna finish these cartoons, or what?” he said lightly, hoping to steer their conversation back to calmer waters.

“Yeah,” Mike responded as he rolled onto his back, cracking his eyes open at the television screen as the space between them widened again. “That’s why we decided to stay in tonight, right?”


	4. Part One: MTM -- Skin

[October 8, 2007]

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” Anna was sitting on the side of the bed, watching Mike as he placed the last of his carry-on items into his backpack, her left hand resting gently on her bump, her engagement diamond sparkling in the sunlight streaming through the open curtains. 

The wistful tone in his wife’s voice caused Mike to look up immediately, catching her dark, sad eyes in his gaze. He’d been home since June, since the end of the European tour, and had been amazed to watch the transformation of her body from barely looking pregnant to the beautiful round shape she was at almost seven months along. Abandoning his packing, Mike stood in front of his wife and threaded his hands into her long, silky brown hair. “I’ve enjoyed being home with you,” he said sincerely. He wasn’t going to lie and say he wished he could stay home- part of him was anxious to get back out on the road and play. The rehearsals the band had infrequently when they first returned, then every day the past two weeks, had only enforced his thoughts that he was restless, missing the road life and the thrill of performance. 

A small voice inside his head knew that he was missing Chester, too.

It hadn’t even happened gradually, the two frontmen secretly sharing a hotel room and a bed every night for the remainder of the European tour after the first time they’d fallen asleep together. Any awkwardness they might have felt had strangely disappeared the night they celebrated Mike’s impending fatherhood. They’d watched cartoons until almost midnight, and when Mike had reached to turn off the lamp, Chester was already asleep on his side, turned away from him and bundled in blankets. At first, Chester falling asleep early was the reason they continued to share a bed, but soon it was just _natural_ to have the void on the other side of the bed filled with someone to talk to, someone to dream with… and on occasion, someone warm to wake up next to, someone to make the nights a little less lonely. By unspoken agreement they kept the arrangement to themselves, not bothering the rest of the band or their wives with the facts. A nagging voice inside both men told them that nobody else would understand.

Mike looked down at the top of Anna’s head as he soothingly stroked her hair, her face buried in his stomach. “Hon, it’s gonna go fast, it’s just two weeks. You’re gonna have to take it easy, and not worry so much. We don’t want this little guy coming before I can get home.” She glanced up as he dropped to his knees in front of her, eye-level with her stomach, and placed kisses on top of her shirt, all over her belly. “You hear that, little man? Papa needs to you stay toasty warm in there and keep Mama company while I’m away. Don’t even think about making an appearance before I get home.” 

Anna stroked her thumb over Mike’s cheek as she looked down at him fondly. “We’ll be fine, Mike. But we’ll miss you… I miss waking up next to you, you know what I mean? I think that’s when I’m the loneliest, trying to fall asleep, and then waking up without you.”

Frozen against her stomach, Mike felt a twinge of guilt as he thought about going back out on tour. Would he and Chester be sleeping beside each other again? He knew exactly what Anna meant, knew that the comfort of having Chester close to him helped them both to sleep better. He knew his wife wouldn’t approve of their sleeping arrangement if she knew. _But she doesn’t know. It would only hurt her, and we aren’t doing anything… sexual. Most of the time he stays on his side of the bed, and I stay on mine._ He looked up, gently covering her stomach with both palms. “We’ll count down the days together, okay?” Anna nodded, and Mike stood back up. “Here,” he coaxed, motioning to the head of the bed. “Lay back and put your feet up.” He helped her scoot up onto the bed and lay back on the pillows, then he sat down on the bed and lifted a foot into his lap. Mike watched the smile curve across her beautiful face as he started massaging.

“Mmmmm, that feels so good!” Anna settled her head back into the pillows, her eyes closed as Mike pressed his thumb into the arch of her tired, swollen foot. He worked his way around her left foot thoroughly before he switched to the right, pleased with himself that she seemed to be enjoying his massage immensely.

He glanced down at the smooth pale foot in his hand, Anna’s toenails painted pink, and then his eyes drifted up her toned calf, her thigh… Mike followed the urge to run his hand up her leg, lightly skimming along the delicate, white skin. She cracked her eyes open, looking down at him with an eyebrow lifted in silent question. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, surprised when Anna laughed at him.

“Like this? All puffed up and round and giant, like a marshmallow? There are days I can’t stand to look at myself!” 

She was being critical but laughing at the same time, and Mike knew she was self-conscious, that there was a little bit of truth in her head for what she was saying. Gently placing the foot on the bed, he crawled up and laid down next to her, placing his hand on her stomach again. “This is the most beautiful you have ever been,” he said softly. “You’re amazing.” Anna turned to him, her eyes beginning to tear up, and he caught her lips with his, softly reassuring her with his kiss.

Anna reached for him, pulling Mike closer to her and deepening their kiss, holding him close by the back of his neck, her fingers feathering along his hairline, his hair too short to grasp. When they broke apart, Anna’s expression was devious, and Mike felt the flip in his stomach at the message he read in her eyes. She wanted him.

“I know a good way to send you off on tour,” she suggested, her voice low, gasping as Mike hovered over her and kissed down her neck. “God, I want you so much… but I think I’ll have to be on top,” she continued breathlessly as Mike carefully snaked a hand up under her shirt and unclasped her bra. 

“You think?” he teased, laughter in his voice. He breathed in deeply, Anna’s citrus shampoo crisp and fresh, her body warm against him as he ran his hand along her soft skin and cupped her breast, feeling the familiar weight as he barely pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He loved the feel of her skin, warm and smooth, so soft under his fingers. Mike smiled into her neck as she gasped close to his ear, breathing out her satisfied agreement with his actions as he nipped his teeth at her earlobe. 

They giggled together as Anna tried to shift closer to him, and Mike helped her sit up on the bed, where she promptly took his t-shirt off and trailed her fingers down his chest, bringing his eyes closed with her light strokes. “Promise me… promise me you won’t go parading around without your shirt on… I can’t bear to think of women lusting after what’s mine while I’m looking like this-”

“Shhh,” Mike touched her lips with a single finger, shushing her for a moment as her full mouth turned down into a pout. “Anna, we’ve talked about this a hundred times. You don’t want me to take my shirt off, I won’t. It’s that simple.”

He watched Anna bite down on her lower lip, a worried crinkle between her eyes. “Promise,” she whispered, placing her palm flat on his jeans, pressing firmly against the erection she knew was there. She wanted to hear him say the word promise, as irrational as it was, because she knew he’d never break his word to her.

“I promise, honey. There’s nobody for me but you.” As soon as he said those words out loud, Mike felt a tightness in his chest, a feeling he dismissed and pushed away as his wife unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, curling her fingers around his length before he could even react. Anna was good at touching him after so many years, she knew exactly how to get what she wanted, and Mike was happy to give it to her. 

Before long, though, he reached down for her wrist, stopping her movements and sliding off the bed to rid himself of the rest of his clothing before helping Anna out of hers, slowly pulling each item of clothing off as he kissed sweet trails along her skin, finally climbing back between her legs as he kissed up her shaking thigh. Mike paused and looked up at his wife, naked and trembling under his skilled hands, her lips a deep, rosy pink and parted as she breathed heavily, eyes bright as she watched him closely. He knew he was ready, but she wasn’t, not yet, despite the pregnancy hormones that were causing her libido to be in overdrive constantly. Continuing his kisses up her thigh, he hovered a moment before he flicked his tongue out to taste her, reveling in the shuddering sigh that escaped as he pressed forward, delving deeper into her warmth. 

Anna’s hands found the top of his head, lightly stroking over the short hair as Mike plunged his tongue as deeply inside her as he could reach before he moved to suck her clit between his lips while sliding two fingers easily into the space his tongue had just been tasting. He knew her body well, could feel the exact moment when she’d had enough before she breathlessly called his name and pushed him away, his lips swollen and warm and glistening wet from going down on her. 

On his way up he stopped to spread kisses over Anna’s stomach, gliding his cheek over the taut skin as both hands found her breasts and squeezed them firmly, vaguely thinking that they felt larger yet again than the last time he’d held them. Each rosy nipple took its turn being rolled between his lips and pinched between his fingers until Anna was practically begging him onto his back, ready to sink herself down over his weeping dick, anxious to feel him inside her, filling her as he brought her to ecstasy. 

Mike ended up propped against the pillows, half sitting and half laying down, guiding his wife carefully on top of him, stopping to ask if she was okay, if she was comfortable, until she finally shook her head and shushed him. “Stop worrying,” she breathed, leaning forward as far as she could go to meet him for a heated kiss, settling back on her knees and using her hand to guide him inside her.

He watched as his dick disappeared into her tight wet cavity, his hands on her hips helping her until he was fully sheathed inside, and they both sighed together, the pleasure mutual. Anna covered his hands with her own, stilling her body for a moment as she adjusted, waiting until she was comfortable enough to begin moving. Mike could see she was frustrated almost immediately, her range of motion lacking with her belly huge in front of her, and he slid one hand between her legs to draw small circles over her clit with his thumb as he helped her ride him by moving his hips as much as he could. It became a personal mission to make her come… he wanted to see her fall apart in his hands one more time before he left. 

It wasn’t long before his hand did the trick, and he watched with fascination as Anna gripped her thighs with her hands and arched into the orgasm he gave her, her head thrown back as she whimpered and he felt her body tremble and contract around him, far too soon for him to achieve the same release. Anna rested back against his bent knees for a moment before she gasped, “I’m sorry, I can’t-” and pulled off him, her legs weak, and lay down on her side, facing Mike. “Sorry, babe… can I?” She reached for Mike’s dick and he turned his head on the pillow to look at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark.

“You want to? Or do you want to watch? Whichever,” Mike managed to say, his heart racing and his body screaming in frustration. Anna moved his own hand over his dick and he received the message loud and clear- she was going to watch him bring himself off. He knew he’d get there faster that way and he didn’t mind, even if it did sting his heart just a little. Anna’s breaths feathered across his shoulder and neck as he stroked himself, varying the speed and the pressure, circling his thumb over top and back down again, until he found a pace that worked. Mike felt the tightness in his pelvis and his hips bucked up into his hand as he came, thick streams of cum heavy across his stomach, his mind blank as he rode out the orgasm, feeling slightly discontent at how it had come about. As soon as he thought that, he admonished himself for being selfish- his wife was hugely pregnant, after all, and he hadn’t expected to get any at all before he left, much less have the opportunity to be inside her, the opportunity to bond one more time before he left. When his hand stilled he leaned up on his elbow to kiss her tenderly, smiling as they broke apart and he touched his nose to hers. “I love you.”

“God, I love you, too.” She hesitated, looking into his eyes, before she cried softly, “I’m going to miss you!” And with that, Anna burst into tears.

**********

“It’s not like him to be late.”

“You’re being all Type A again, Delson. Relax. Chester’s not here yet, either. They’re probably together.” Dave looked up at Brad, who was pacing in front of the row of seats that four of the six members of Linkin Park were waiting in at LAX. “I think the more important question on everyone’s mind right now is, how much bigger are you gonna let that ‘fro get? You said last week you were thinking about cutting it back some before we left.”

Rob nodded from under his hat, slumped down in the seat next to Dave with his hands in his hoodie pockets, trying his best to be inconspicuous. “You said you’d cut it,” he mumbled. 

Exasperated, Brad threw his hands into the air. “I don’t get why you guys are worried about my hair. I’m going to keep growing it out _just because_ I know it makes you all crazy.” 

With a sideways glance at Dave, Joe leaned back and crossed one ankle over the other. “Okay, then. When I grow mine out into a samurai ponytail, I don’t want to hear any bitching from you, Delson.” 

“Look, if you guys are growing your hair out, I’m gonna stop cutting mine too,” Rob said. “My neck feels weird when the breeze hits it, you know?”

“I’m sorry I even started this,” Dave said, touching his completely shaved head. “Didn’t know it was going to turn into a competition, though I should have known.” His eyes lit on Mike, strolling through the airport with a grin on his face, a knit hat pulled low over his head and the collar of his jacket turned up. “You’re not hiding from anyone when you still smile like that, Shinoda,” Dave called, and Brad turned around quickly.

“You’re late! Where’s Chester? We board in a half hour!” Brad tapped the face of his watch and looked at Mike, as though the mere mention of time would make Chester magically appear.

“Relax, man, he’ll be here. You know how he is. If we’ve got thirty minutes he’ll be here in twenty-nine.” Mike slung his backpack down to the floor and took a seat on the other side of Dave to watch Brad continue to pace. He knew the guitarist wouldn’t relax until they were all accounted for, and even then, he’d probably still be wound tight until they took their seats on the plane.

“We’re all growing our hair out,” Joe whispered loudly across Dave and Rob, and Brad rolled his eyes, having clearly heard the deejay. “Just to irritate Delson.”

Mike smiled and ran a hand over his hat. He’d gotten used to the short cut he’d been sporting since Fort Minor, but maybe it was time for a change. “Sounds good. Anything to irritate dear Braddles.” He grinned in Brad’s direction before he bent to rummage through his backpack, pulling a bag of gummy bears out and settling back in his seat to pick out the red and white ones. 

He was steadily chewing, silently dropping orange gummy bears into Joe’s outstretched hand as he came across them, when Chester finally rolled in-- with four minutes to spare.

The air around the vocalist seemed to shimmer with energy as he strolled through the airport, sunglasses perched on his nose, his black jeans disappearing into the tops of his combats, a tight black t-shirt stretched across his chest, and a black jacket with the collar turned up slung over top of the ensemble. There were black plugs in his ears and his face was clean shaven save for a small patch on his chin, and as Mike’s eyes travelled appreciatively over his face, he drew in a sharp breath. Chester had shaved his head, leaving a small strip of hair down the center that was maybe an inch long, which he’d spiked to perfection. Mike immediately felt his pulse quicken as he grinned up at his friend, who looked more like he was ready to rock the stage than settle into a thirteen hour flight. 

Chester tossed his bag to the ground and threw himself into the chair next to Mike, his hand outstretched. Mike didn’t even have to ask what he wanted, dropping three green gummy bears into his hand without hesitation as Brad started his questioning.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago. Don’t you have a watch, Chester? We’ve been worried about you. What happened to your hair?” The questions stopped as Brad took in the updated hairstyle.

“I thought I’d give the fans what they want,” Chester shrugged, popping a gummy bear into his mouth. “My hair looks like this in all the promos, I thought, why not?” Taking off his sunglasses with a flourish, he looked at Mike and winked. “It’s sexy, isn’t it?”

FInding his voice quickly, Mike agreed. “Security will have to beat the girls off you, Ches.”

“Perfect.” Chester crossed an ankle over his knee and rested his hand casually on his other knee, twirling his sunglasses. “And, Delson, you knew I’d be here. I just got caught up… at home… a bit longer than expected.” 

The innuendo was clear, and Mike felt his cheeks grow warm. He wasn’t the only one who’d been late saying goodbye to his wife. Brad finally sat down on the other side of Joe, grumbling under his breath about how he was always on time _and_ managed to get laid, and Mike was picking at his t-shirt when he heard Chester ask, “how’s Anna doing?” 

It was a sincere question, his voice laced with concern, and their eyes met for a moment as Mike processed through Chester’s surprising travel appearance again. He glanced down at his relaxed jeans and t-shirt, his look far more casual than Chester’s, before he answered. “She was… upset that I’m leaving,” he admitted, folding the top of the gummy bear bag over. “I mean, it’s only two weeks but she was acting like I was going to be away for months.”

“It’s pregnancy,” Chester declared with the authority of a man who had already dealt with the phenomenon several times. “They’re always emotional. But I know you. I’m sure you made her feel better before you left.” Chester’s eyes were simmering with some emotion Mike couldn’t quite place. 

“I bet you did!” Joe exclaimed, listening in on the conversation and holding his hand out for another gummy bear despite Mike having already closed the bag. 

“Hahn, you are such a pervert,” Dave laughed, slapping the hand away from in front of him. “Do you ever stop thinking about sex?”

“Do you?” Joe’s eyes were wide. “I thought that’s what we all thought about, all the time.”

At that moment the speakers overhead announced it was time to begin boarding their flight to New Zealand. Mike was grateful it was an overnight flight, even though he knew Chester usually had trouble sleeping on the plane. He himself had no trouble sleeping on the plane, and in a moment of clarity, as he stared at the back of Chester’s neck while they waited in line to board, he realized it was because he and Chester always held hands on the flight. Always beside each other, always linked together, their shoulders flush against each other. Sometimes Chester would rest his head on Mike’s shoulder. Sometimes Mike would awaken to find _he’d_ been the one sleeping on his bandmate. But it suddenly made sense, the peace he felt while flying, the reason he could sleep- Chester. Chester, the crisp, fresh lines of his haircut straight and neat against his pale neck. His skin beckoning to Mike with magnetic force.

As the line moved forward, down the little hallway to the open plane door, Mike leaned forward, his lips close to Chester’s skin. “Ches,” he breathed quietly against his neck, “I like the haircut.”

He watched the tremor flit across the vocalist’s body as he turned to Mike, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses once again, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips before he focused his gaze back in front of him, stepping onto the plane, crossing the line once again into tour life.


	5. Part One: MTM -- Broken

[October 15, 2007]

_chut-chut-chut-chut-diggadut-chut-chut_

“Rob! Robbie! Help!”

_digga-digga-chut-chut_

“Bourdie! He’s taking my donuts!”

Rob glanced up from his warmup in the corner of the dressing room to see Brad holding a package of powdered donuts out of Joe’s reach. Briefly glancing around the room, he found Dave nowhere to be seen, and Mike and Chester in the other corner, heads bent together over the bottle of black nail polish Mike was using to carefully paint the nails on Chester’s left hand. 

“You said you wanted to eat better! You said you wanted to lose weight!” Brad was moving the donuts back and forth in his hands, playing keep away from the deejay. Just as Rob was about to stop his warm up and intervene, Dave strolled through the door. “Heads up!” Brad shouted at Dave, who looked up just in time to catch the offending package of donuts as Joe tackled Brad to the floor.

“If you want him to quit eating this stuff, take it off the rider,” Dave said as he tossed the package of donuts onto the hospitality table, dismissing the whole argument in typical logical Dave-like style.

With one last swipe of paint down Chester’s pinky finger, Mike stuck the brush back in the bottle of nail polish and admired his work. He’d gotten good at painting Chester’s nails over the years, the vocalist’s OCD making it impossible for him to be satisfied with how his left hand looked when he tried to do it himself. The first time he’d asked Mike to paint his nails for him, the emcee had resisted for days, insisting Chester would have to figure it out on his own. Over the course of three days, Chester had finally worn him down with his pleading eyes and pouty lips- and as predicted when Mike first caved and started helping with the task, he was now Chester’s nail painting bitch.

He smiled, _nail-painting bitch_ , watching as Chester’s lips formed a perfect “o” while he blew onto the perfectly painted nails. Something about Chester with black fingernails made Mike’s heart flutter. He wasn’t sure what it was, or why it had that effect on him, but Mike knew that he couldn’t take his eyes off the slim fingers, the pale white hands with their flame encircled wrists, every time Chester’s nails were painted black. Every time _he_ painted them black.

From over the tops of the nails he was patiently blowing on, Chester looked at Mike. Their eyes locked for a moment, the air between them electric with unspoken desire. Mike could feel the tension in the air and he cleared his throat, prying his eyes away guiltily. _He’d kill me if he knew I was thinking about him… that way… how do we go from everything being so easy to everything feeling so… complicated… so fast?_

Chester was thinking the same thing as he watched Mike’s cheeks tint barely pink when he broke their eye contact. He resolved himself to be a little less flirty for the rest of the evening. He knew it was easy to cross the line, and obviously, that was a problem for the emcee. Chester frowned as he stood up, breaking the tense silence between them.

“Nice job, Mikey,” he said sincerely, wiggling his fingers out in from of him. 

“Yeah? You ready for tonight now?” Mike struggled to infuse his voice with enthusiasm. _I can’t let him know how badly he gets under my skin._ He stood up and stretched, making his way over to the table for a bottle of water as all hell broke loose behind him.

“Now let’s see how you like it!” Joe was standing a few feet away from Brad, the guitarist’s headphones in his hands. “Bourdie! Catch!” 

Rob barely looked up in time to field the headphones, a brief smile on his face at his covert athleticism, before Brad came at him, his fro bouncing as he ran. The headphones made the rounds between Dave, Joe, and Rob, before Brad finally waved his hands in the air and surrendered.

“Whatever, Joe. I’m not going to fight you guys for them. Jim will be in here in a minute and he’ll make you give them back to me. We’re, like, thirty minutes from stage. I have to have them for us to play.” With a smug face, Brad sat down on the couch, pretending not to be concerned about his headphones. As quickly as he’d started the war, he was ending it. Brad got off on control.

“Aw, Braddles, it’s no fun if you don’t fight back,” Joe moaned, giving in immediately and dropping the giant headphones in Brad’s lap. “You just wait. You just wait until we all have hair to rival yours, and then what? It’ll drive you insane when people say, ‘which one is Brad?’ The answer won’t be, ‘the one with all the hair.’ You’ll just be the guitarist. People will start mistaking you for Bourdie again.” Joe wiggled his eyebrows and laughed as Brad frowned. He liked being the only one with a lot of hair.

“Alright, guys, it’s time to get serious,” Mike started, and everyone else burst into laughter as Dave popped in front of him with a boxing kangaroo, left and right jabs clicking in the air as the bassist pushed a button on the back of the toy. “Fine, fine… time to… get ready, at least,” he giggled, mimicking the boxing moves back at Dave. 

A flurry of techs all around them situated in-ears and discussed last minute details, and Mike could feel the anticipation ramping up. The final minutes before they went out on stage were always energetic and exciting, and any misgivings he had about the moment he’d shared with Chester over black nail polish had dissolved by the time they gathered for the traditional pre-show huddle.

“Let’s get out there and _own_ this place!” he yelled, fired up and ready to go, right as Chester exclaimed, “It’s gonna be _fuckin’ awesome!_ ”, bouncing up and down. Mike grinned at him, almost giddy with the thrill of the upcoming performance. Chester was overly exuberant tonight, animated and louder than usual, and Mike felt the energy flowing off the vocalist in waves. Joe had eaten his donuts, Rob was warmed up and ready to play, and Brad and Dave had finally gotten serious once the techs showed up. All signs were pointing toward an excellent night ahead. The crowd was exceptionally loud as the curtain fell, revealing Linkin Park and the opening bars to _One Step Closer._

They were only three songs into the set when Chester fell. 

Mike caught the movement from the corner of his eye, Chester sprawled on his back at the foot of the platform steps, and just as Mike turned to see what had happened, the vocalist bounced up from the floor, running behind Mike and not missing a single word in _Papercut_. Dave’s eyes met Mike’s and he shrugged. If Chester was hurt, they probably wouldn’t know it until after the set.

Trying to push down the panic that was starting to rise in his chest, Mike watched as Chester screamed through the next two songs, refusing to look at any of the rest of the band members. As soon as Mike saw him exit for backstage, though, he followed close behind.

“Ches, what happened? Are you alright?” Mike skidded to a stop as he came around the corner backstage where Chester was doubled over, Jim next to him and two techs beside him. 

“Fuck! I think I broke it!” Chester was saying, holding his swollen wrist in his other hand. He looked up and his eyes caught Mike’s. “Get back out there, Mike, there’s nothing you can do. Go do something, say something to the crowd. Fuck! Goddamn it hurts!”

Mike’s eyes widened as he looked at Chester’s wrist. It didn’t look right, that much was certain. “Wait, Ches-” 

He started to step forward when the vocalist looked at him with fire in his eyes. “Mike.” Chester’s voice was more forceful this time, even through gritted teeth. “I’m. _Fine._

“Okay… okay,” Mike gave in breathlessly, his expression worried and scared. “What do you want to do? Do you want to stop? Do you want a minute back here, do you want me to stall? Tell me what you want, Ches.”

“Fuck!” Chester hissed. “It fucking hurts! Go out there and stall. Jim! I need some ice!” 

Chester had already dismissed Mike as he looked around for some degree of comfort. Scrambling into action, Mike took a couple of deep breaths and returned to stage with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and a saccharine tone to his shaky voice. “Ah… Chester is pretty sure he broke his wrist… a couple of songs ago… so… uh… hang on one second, we’re gonna ice this up… he said he can probably still play, okay? But… we may have to make some adjustments.” He paused, a nervous, breathy giggle escaping his lips. “Let’s get our man some ice… and make sure he’s okay.” Once he stopped babbling, he realized he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go backstage again, Chester would be angry he’d left the crowd hanging, so he sat down behind his keyboard and stared at the keys. _I hope he’s okay. Damn it, I should have been watching him. What in the hell even happened?_ Mike glanced at the platform, cursing in his head, as the crowd lit up and went crazy. He turned just in time to see Chester coming back on stage, an ice pack over his wrist.

Without even a glance in Mike’s direction, Chester stode up to the mic and raised his good hand in the air. “I figure if it’s broken, it’s still gonna be broken in an hour. Let’s fuckin’ do this!” 

Relief washed over Mike as he looked at Chester’s back. Surely if he were hurt badly, they’d stop the show. He was torn between anxiety and relief, unsure whether Chester was really okay or if he were merely faking it, and for the entire back half of the set, he was unable to meet Chester’s eyes.

The vocalist was on auto-pilot, powering through the set, everything proceeding as normal until the break before encore. As everyone rushed backstage, Chester was howling while Jim tried to tie his arm up in a sling.

“No! That’s fucking worse, that fucking hurts! Fuck!” With his good hand he swatted Jim away from him, still cursing in pain. 

“What happened anyway?” Dave asked, his voice a bit fearful. “All I know is I turned and you were flat on your back.”

Mike couldn’t even get next to Chester, the rest of the band was circled around him. He hovered behind Brad, the anxiety crashing back into him full force.

“He jumped from the platform and just went straight down,” Joe said. “I saw it happen.”

“No, fuck! My foot got caught in the step and I just went backwards, I landed on my hand… fuck!” 

“It looks broken.” Brad added in his two cents, and Mike glared at the back of his head before pushing in next to him, across from Chester.

“Ches, are you going to make it? Do you want to finish the set?” For the first time since Chester had pushed him away earlier, Mike caught the vocalist’s eyes. Even in the dim backstage lighting, Mike could see the pain and the fear, and the fierce determination in his face.

“We’re gonna finish. And then we’re going to the emergency room,” Chester said, hopping a few steps forward as he worked through the pain. Mike reached out and caught his hand, the glossy black fingernails catching the light.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, not caring how concerned his voice sounded. He felt the spark between their skin as their hands connected.

With his teeth still gritted, Chester nodded his head, then forced out. “Let’s go, let’s finish this.” He squeezed Mike’s hand, and it was encore time.

Before he could make sense of what was happening, the set was over, they had waved goodbye quickly, and then Chester was shuffled off quickly in one direction, while the rest of the band was herded toward the dressing room. Mike didn’t even have a chance to mention that he was supposed to be with Chester while the monitors were taken off, towels were handed out, and drinks were supplied. There was so much commotion that by the time Mike had a chance to ask about going to the hospital, Jim and Chester had already left the venue.

Deflated and riddled with anxiety, Mike dropped onto the couch in the dressing room, running the towel over his face and looking around. Just the band were left, alone for their decompression time, and the atmosphere was strained. It wasn’t the first time Chester had hurt himself, but it seemed to actually be serious this time. Nobody wanted to talk about what might happen if Chester had indeed broken his wrist. It could mean changing parts of the set altogether, and Linkin Park was nothing if not well-rehearsed. Changing plans right at the start of a tour leg could be intimidating.

Back at the hotel, when everyone went to their rooms to shower, Mike stubbornly sat down in the lobby to wait for Chester to return. He’d tried calling and texting his bandmate, and had yet to receive a response from either attempt. He didn’t want to wait upstairs, trying to make small talk with the guys. His stomach hurt too much for that. Mike just wanted to be the first to know that Chester was actually okay.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there in the lobby of their hotel, staring at the sliding glass door, waiting for Chester to return, when his cell phone rang. It jarred him from his thoughts and he stared at it dumbly for a moment before his eyes saw that it was Anna. The iPhone in his hand was still so new to him that it took a minute for Mike to answer the call, swiping his thumb across the screen. “Hey, honey.” _Damn, I sound wrecked._

“Hey, babe, everything okay? You sound awful. And you usually call by now.” Anna’s quietly concerned voice floated down the line and Mike frowned, glancing at his watch. It was past two am, and Chester wasn’t back yet.

“Sorry, Anna… it’s been crazy tonight, Chester broke his wrist on stage tonight-”

“Oh no! That’s awful!”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, running his hand over his hair. “I’ve been waiting for him to get back from the ER and I didn’t realize how late it was… or… early for you?” Mike was confused for a moment, trying to figure the time difference between Melbourne and Los Angeles. 

There was silence and then Anna said, “early. It’s past eight here. You’re just… sitting there?”

The implication was clear- he was just sitting there, waiting for Chester, and hadn’t thought to pick up the phone and call his wife. “I’m sorry, yeah… we got back here late, and I guess I was just… I don’t know, I don’t have an excuse. I’m sorry… I’ve been preoccupied. How are you feeling?” Mike swallowed, berating himself for not calling the way he always did. 

“I miss you,” she said simply, and Mike felt even more guilty for forgetting to call. 

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Right as he was about to say more, the hotel lobby door slid open and there was Jim, with a large envelope in his hand, and Chester, a bright pink cast on his arm, his perfect white fingers sticking out the end, the black nails immediately capturing Mike’s attention. “Hey, hon, let me call you back, Jim and Ches just got here, and he’s got a cast. I need to see what’s up, see if he’s okay.” 

Anna didn’t even hesitate. “Of course! Tell Chester I’m sorry to hear about his wrist. I’ll talk with you in a bit. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll call you back.” Mike fumbled to hang up the phone and stood up, walking toward Chester as casually as he could. “Nice cast, Bennington. Damn, what are we going to do with you?” He smiled, and Chester smiled back, but Mike could feel the strain.

“Broken. Clean through. Wanna see?” Chester nodded his head in Jim’s direction. “He’s got my x-rays. Check it out.”

Side by side they stood, holding the film in the air as Chester pointed at the break in his wrist. “The doctor says I have to be really careful not to move it, or this could shift. That would be bad.” 

The heavy concern was in his voice again as Mike looked back at the film in his hands. “Oh, shit, it goes all the way through!” He couldn’t keep his eyes on the x-ray as Chester talked and pointed at the film, the black nail polish mocking him. _Here he is, broken, and I’m staring at his nail polish like an idiot. Fuck, Shinoda, pull it together._

For a few more minutes they stayed in the lobby, laughing together about the experience in retrospect and the fan encouragement. “That’s fuckin’ rock n’ roll!” Mike exclaimed, and they dissolved into giggles again, shaking their heads at the bizarre turn the evening had taken. As they made their way upstairs, Mike shook his head when Chester asked if they should tell the rest of the guys the diagnosis.

“Nah, everyone’s asleep. Let them sleep. We’ll catch them up in the morning,” Jim said, handing Mike a folded plastic bag and a smaller white paper bag before disappearing in his own room. Three am was quickly approaching.

They were safely tucked away in Chester’s room before the vocalist dropped his cheerful exterior, stumbling into Mike’s arms as an anguished moan escaped his lips. 

“Easy, easy, Ches.” Mike caught him and held him close, smoothing his hands over Chester’s back. “It’s going to be okay, they got you all fixed up now. Jesus, I was so worried about you.”

With his undamaged hand, Chester grabbed a fistful of Mike’s shirt and buried his face in Mike’s shoulder. “It fucking hurt! And the whole time I felt so alone, why didn’t they let you come with me?”

“I don’t know… but it’s okay now. Look, Jim gave me this plastic bag to tie over your cast so you can shower. I know you want to.” Mike leaned back and looked at Chester, letting go to gesture to the bag on the bed. “I’ll get you all covered and we’ll get a shower, then we can go to bed. I know you’re tired.”

Chester’s eyes glittered in the dim lighting of the hotel room. “We?” His voice was low, and the hair on the back of Mike’s neck stood at attention.

Mike swallowed and smiled nervously. “You know what I meant. You in your shower, me in mine. You’re such a mess.” He moved to pick up the plastic bag and looked at Chester thoughtfully. “You _can_ shower on your own, right?”

“Yeah,” Chester sighed. “I just need help with the bag.” He was looking across the room when he answered Mike’s question, and the emcee just let it go. He wasn’t in the mood for games and innuendos tonight. His emotions were already too close to the surface. He stood there as Chester struggled with his shirt, finally pulling it off and tossing it to the side, then held out his arm for Mike to close it up inside the bag. 

Once he was sure the bag was secure, Mike moved toward the door to Chester’s room. “I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll unlock and open my door so if you need me, just yell for me. You’ll be okay?” He looked at Chester, who nodded as he reached to unbutton his gray jeans, his back to Mike.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” 

With a sigh, Mike stepped out into the empty hallway, then over to his room. He couldn’t wait to get a shower, he was still a sweaty, sticky mess from the show. Grabbing a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt, he was in the shower quickly, trying to finish before Chester, just in case the vocalist ended up needing help. _I should have waited to shower until he was finished. What if he needs something, and I’m in here? I wouldn’t be able to hear him._ In record time he was finished with his shower routine, a towel wrapped around his waist as he went through the connecting door back into Chester’s room. The water was still running.

“Ches?” He called over the sound of the shower.

A pause. Then, “yeah?”

“You okay?” Mike asked, waiting for a response. He heard a brief chuckle, then-

“Yeah, I’m good. Almost done.”

Mike breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’m just gonna wait on your bed if you need me.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing that if he laid down he’d fall asleep. He’d just looked around the room for the remote to turn the television on when he heard Chester turn the water off. _He wasn’t kidding about almost being finished. I hope he can handle drying off on his own. I don’t know if I can take it tonight._ He knew his care and concern for Chester had been obvious all night, and he wasn’t sure if he’d managed to conceal his secret feelings for the vocalist while he was worrying himself sick. 

“Hey, Ches? I’m gonna go get your meds and some water, if you’ve got it under control in there.” He stood up again and waited.

“Yeah, I’ve got this,” Chester called from the bathroom, and Mike went back through the door, heading to the small bag on the table with Chester’s painkillers inside.

Vicodin. A narcotic. Mike shuddered as he looked at the bottle. It seemed so dangerous to give Chester something so strong. _But the break… it was clean through. All the way through the bone. I know it must hurt like hell. He needs something. I’ll take the bottle. I’ll keep the bottle and he’ll have to get them from me. I won’t let him have control of these pills._ Mike tapped one tablet out into his palm and then shoved the bottle down inside his suitcase. It wasn’t a great hiding place, but it was better than having the bottle out in plain sight. _I’ll keep a watch on him. They wouldn’t have prescribed this if he didn't need it._

When Chester came into the bedroom he headed straight for the bed. Asking permission to sleep with Mike wasn’t even a consideration. They both knew what the other needed without having to say it out loud. Chester slid under the blanket, and Mike stepped toward him, the concern obvious on his face as he watched Chester wince, trying to get comfortable.

“Here, you need to take this.” Mike stretched his hand out to Chester, a single vicodin in his palm. 

Chester eyed the pill uncertainly, then glanced at Mike, the uneasiness of taking the narcotic written all over his face. “I… I don’t know if I should take that, Mike. What if… what if I can’t stop taking them?”

It wouldn’t do any good for Mike to admit he’d thought the same thing. “Ches… I’ve got the bottle and they only prescribed you a week’s worth. Take this one tonight so you can sleep and we’ll play it by ear tomorrow. If you don’t _absolutely need_ it I won’t give you another.” He dropped the pill into Chester’s hand and handed him the glass of water, watching the moment Chester decided to trust that Mike would keep him in check, swallowing the pill while holding Mike’s gaze. 

It had been an exhausting day, and now all Mike wanted to do was go to sleep. He took the glass of water from Chester and set it down on the bedside table as the vocalist slid down in the bed. Mike pulled the blanket up under Chester’s chin, his heart aching at the pain in the dark eyes watching his every move… around the side of the bed, yanking his t-shirt off, sliding under the blankets- the whole time, Chester’s eyes on him. He’d turned the lamp off and was lying still on his pillow when he heard Chester’s voice next to him.

“Mikey… it hurts…” Chester whined, and Mike turned toward him, unable to see his face in the darkness of the hotel room. 

“I know,” he whispered softly. “The painkiller will kick in soon, you know.” For a moment Mike hesitated, but then he reached his hand out, connecting with Chester’s right arm. “C’mere,” he whispered, pulling Chester over to snuggle next to him. He felt the warmth of Chester’s body, his cheek feverish as he laid in the crook of Mike’s arm, his cast heavy across Mike’s stomach. They lay together for a moment more before Mike lifted his free hand and stroked it over Chester’s head, soothing him as Chester tangled his leg over Mike’s. “It’ll be okay, Ches, try to go to sleep.”

There were several shifts from each of them before Chester seemed to get comfortable, Mike listening as his breathing smoothed into deep, slow puffs against his chest. He squeezed the broken vocalist close, resisting the urge to brush a kiss along Chester’s temple. He was okay. Chester was going to be okay.

It was later, and Chester was already asleep, snuggled close against his chest, before Mike realized he’d forgotten to return Anna’s call.


	6. Part One: MTM -- High

A week of shows, and a week of carefully rationed vicodin, had passed, and Mike was holding on to a thin thread of patience with Chester’s mood swings. It was unusual for the emcee to be at the breaking point with the vocalist, but the combination of exhaustion, pain, and drugs was making him difficult to handle. Mike was tired and stressed out from keeping a watchful eye on his bandmate.

Surprisingly, Chester had kept his distance at bedtime after falling asleep with Mike that first night. The morning after the fall, they’d awoken, limbs entangled, and just like the very first time they’d fallen asleep together, neither of them quite knew what to say. Most of the nights they’d spent together were simple, merely falling asleep on the same mattress, an entire body’s width worth of space between them. This particular night had been more. Both men were acutely aware that a conscious decision had been made to climb into bed together and hold each other through the night. In their minds, Mike rationalized that Chester needed comfort, and Chester rationalized that he was injured and therefore _in need_ of comfort. Neither of them said a word to the other about the gentle warmth and security enclosed in the blankets, surrounded by the cold, dark haven of the hotel room, that morning. It was easier for Mike to simply squeeze Chester close and ask how he was feeling, and for Chester to savor the intimacy a moment longer before he asked for another vicodin, causing Mike to rise immediately but reluctantly from cocoon of the bed to provide the painkiller.

After that first night, Mike had given Chester his nightly dose in his own room, and watched as Chester climbed into his own bed afterwards. Despite the longing to have the vocalist close to him, Mike stayed quiet about their sleeping arrangement, though he did leave their connecting doors unlocked each night- just in case. It was hard to admit that he wished Chester would come to him, just to watch tv or talk, not necessarily to share the empty void of Mike’s bed. It was harder to admit that he really just wanted Chester at his side, occupying that lonely space next to him. Chester’s moods had been unpredictable all week, and Mike had started to worry mid-way through the week about his short temper-- which had been aimed particularly at Mike when he was at his worst.

The sets had mostly been fine, despite the band having to change a song here and there when Chester’s services had been needed on guitar. After tonight’s show they would have two more days to sightsee in Australia before heading back to the states for another break, but the vicodin were gone and there were to be no refills, despite the aching pain Chester still complained about in his arm. Mike had helpfully supplied Chester with two Tylenol, which had not seemed to help the pain much, and he started to wonder if they should do the show tonight, their last one in Australia, considering the mood Chester was in at the moment.

“You’re sure you want to do the show tonight, Ches?” Mike was hovering next to Chester, exactly the same way he had been hovering all day, and Chester couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the question.

“ _Yes._ I did the whole fuckin’ show the night I broke it with no painkillers at all. Throw me another Tylenol and we’re all set.” He didn’t even look Mike’s way as he bit the words out sarcastically.

Mike’s lips settled into a thin line. “Don’t take it out on me that your vicodin ran out. You know as well as I do why you aren’t getting any refills. And it’s too soon for more Tylenol.” He glanced at his watch and considered. “Well, I guess technically you could have two more in an hour. I think the bottle says a maximum of six in a twenty-four hour period. Do you think you need more before we do the set?” Chester wasn’t looking, but Mike’s eyebrows were drawn together in concern, the white pill bottle burning a hole in the bottom of his backpack.

“Seeing as how you’re only giving me two fucking Tylenol at a time, yeah, I do think I need some more.” Chester’s words came out sharper than he intended as he turned to glare at the emcee, and he immediately backed down as the hurt swept across Mike’s face. “Sorry… sorry, I… it just hurts. I know you’re trying to do the right thing. I know you’re just keeping me in check. I feel like I’m being an asshole, and I only had those pills for a week. And it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I took the last one. I’m a fucking mess, Mike.”

“You’re fine. But I… I’m worried about your… state of mind, Chester.” Mike was trying to choose his words carefully. “You’ve been down on yourself all week.” 

Chester leaned his head onto the back of the dressing room couch, closing his eyes. He _was_ miserable, and it was completely his fault for being so stupid as to try to jump off that platform at the last minute. That’s why they planned, practiced and rehearsed, every single part of every single show until there was no chance of anything going wrong. And if every member of the band was like Brad and Mike, he thought, nothing would ever go wrong. But they had Chester, and Chester was always a wild card. A walking disaster. A responsibility nobody else wanted and that had been pawned off on Mike since the very beginning.

Sensing the start of the downhill spiral, Mike reached over and put his hand on Chester’s knee, not wanting to touch the pink cast. His eyes flicked over the black fingernails that needed a touch-up and he steeled himself before he spoke as matter-of-factly as he could. “Chester… Chester, look at me. Stop beating yourself up for this. So we had to change a song or two, so what? Everyone has been fine with it. And… I know it doesn’t help much, but the Tylenol might dull the pain a bit. You’ll forget about it once you’re out there, anyway, I know you.” His hand crept up Chester’s thigh and took his hand, but Chester didn’t even crack his eyes in Mike’s direction. “Come on, it’s not so bad. You’ll be fine tonight.”

Frustrated, Chester blew out a deep breath, his hand slack in Mike’s grip. He didn’t want to look at the sympathy in Mike’s eyes, he didn’t deserve his understanding. His inability to make good decisions had inconvenienced all of the guys. His inability to voice his own needs had kept him awake and miserable in his own room all week. It was frustrating to not be able to talk to Mike about how he felt. “I just want to go to sleep.”

The air in Mike’s lungs seemed to freeze there as he heard Chester’s small, tired voice. “It will be fine on stage, it will,” he encouraged, his tone slightly pleading. “Don’t be so down about it. It’s just your wrist. It’s not like… your leg, or something. You can still get around. You can still do all the things on stage that make you... you.” 

Chester considered the words for a moment, and sighed again. “I’m just tired, I guess. I haven’t really slept much this week… by myself. And I don’t _want_ to have to be extra careful with this cast. It’s just fucking annoying.” He finally squeezed Mike’s hand back, but his eyes remained closed. He’d just admitted he wanted to sleep with Mike again, and he was afraid he’d see a rejection of that idea in Mike’s expression. 

“Chester… if you weren’t sleeping well, all you had to do was come wake me up. I would have stayed up with you.” Mike’s voice was softly reassuring as his thumb stroked over the back of Chester’s hand. 

A long pause stretched between them before Chester looked at Mike through his lashes. “Tonight… maybe we can… hang out before bed.”

Relief swept over Mike and he smiled. “Yeah, let’s do that.” The smile he got in return settled his anxiety a bit. He’d be able to watch over Chester better tonight, he’d be there if Chester couldn’t sleep. It would be better for both of them, and Mike was pleased that his friend’s mood seemed to lift instantly. 

The rest of the hour was spent preparing to take the stage, and they managed to finish the last Australian show on a high. Coming off the stage, Mike thought that maybe at least part of the reason was that both he and Chester were looking forward to the evening together, and the next two days off. Little did he know, as they rocked the stage together that night, that Chester had already made plans for them.

When the concert was over, and the band had retired into their separate rooms back at the hotel, Chester came into Mike’s room after his shower for the first time that week... holding a bag of weed.

“Jesus, Ches, where did you get that?” Mike’s eyes raked over the bag and his mind tingled with pleasurable thoughts. It would feel so good to get high right now, to feel the worry and stress from the week melt away, and maybe it would improve Chester’s mood… but even weed with Chester made Mike uneasy. It felt like with Chester, one innocent night of smoking pot would turn into being high before breakfast, and then they’d be snorting coke by the end of the week. He knew he was being dramatic, but he could tell Chester had been antsy all day, the first day he’d been out of vicodin. Mike wasn’t sure if it was due to the absence of the narcotic, or the residual pain of the break. All the thoughts spinning through Mike’s brain were telling him they shouldn’t smoke tonight, not after the past week. Without reason, he thought about how he didn’t like the way he felt after doing a line of cocaine. He’d tried it one time and that was enough. No hard drugs for Mike Shinoda, especially now, after he’d supportively walked the detox and withdrawal path beside Chester years back. In a weird, twisted way, weed seemed out of the question at the moment, a harbinger of worse things to come.

“Bourdie shared,” Chester shrugged, and Mike felt a bit of anger bubbling up inside him. They’d all agreed, after spending most of the Meteora tour high, that there would be no drugs on this tour, no drugs around Chester, and here Rob was, smuggling him some weed. 

“Brad will flip the fuck out if he finds out you and Rob have weed,” Mike said, despite the longing he felt to just smoke his cares away that night. _We don’t have a show tomorrow. It wouldn’t matter if we got high tonight. I could use it…_ Mike shook his head at himself. He should be responsible, he should take that bag of weed away from Chester, but he just couldn’t make himself say no definitively.

Chester eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and defiance. “It’s _just_ a little weed, Mike. Hahn’s got some too” He smirked at Mike’s shocked face and continued. “We’ve smoked a shit ton of weed together. Why are you being such an asshole about it all of a sudden?”

_Am I being an asshole? I’m just trying to do what’s best. Chester’s been popping pills all week and now he’s just wanting to numb the pain a little, and I’m acting like we’re going to be shooting heroin. He’s right. It’s just a little weed. Just a little… weed…_

They stood, eyes locked in silent battle, Chester in his striped pajama pants challenging Mike to say no. He knew Mike wanted it, he could see it in his eyes, the way they followed the hand holding the baggie. It was almost possible to hear the argument Mike was having inside his head, and Chester waited patiently, delighting when he saw the moment the emcee gave in to himself. 

Running a hand over his damp hair, Mike decided to quit fighting it. “We can’t smoke weed in the room, they’ll charge a huge cleaning fee for the smell. Let’s go out onto the balcony,” he suggested. He flipped a hand up and pointed to the sliding door leading to the private balcony, and Chester grinned, the first real smile Mike had seen outside of a performance all week. 

They settled into the lounge chairs on the balcony, and Mike watched as Chester took the first drag, his lips soft around the joint, before passing it to Mike. Passing it back and forth in silence, Mike felt a spark every time their fingers met, Chester’s touch lingering longer each time they handed the joint over. 

_I’m imagining it, I know I am. I’m imagining that he wants me too._ Mike’s mind stopped for a moment, hazy and confused, and he blinked, looking over at Chester. His head had fallen back in the chair and his neck was exposed, and Mike felt a rush of blood through his veins. _Did I just think that I want Chester? That’s the weed talking. Yep. Just the weed._ He decided to follow Chester’s example and lean his head back on the lounge chair, just for a moment.

With his mind drifting, Mike had no idea how long they had been sitting in silence before he felt Chester’s fingertips on his arm. It was a struggle to open his eyes, but he managed to turn toward Chester, and he felt the smile warm his entire face as he looked at the vocalist through the soft haze of the shared high.

“Mikey.” Chester’s voice was melodically beautiful to Mike’s ears, husky and warm. “I feel… I feel…”

Mike couldn’t explain how he was feeling either, as he watched the reflection of refracted light sparkle on Chester’s face, throwing rainbows at him. ‘I feel like don’t care about anything right now but you, Ches.’ _Wait. Did I say that out loud? Or did I think that? It sounded loud. I didn’t say that out loud._ The glow sliding over Chester’s face sent heat through Mike’s limbs. 

“I feel sleepy,” Chester finally managed to finish, his hand softly stroking down Mike’s arm. “Let’s go inside. We’re not smoking anymore. Let’s go back inside.” 

Mike looked down at Chester’s hand on his arm, each light touch leaving a trail of color in its wake, a branding on Mike’s skin. Chester was touching him, and his eyes… Mike looked up and sucked in a labored breath. Chester’s eyes were impossibly dark, bottomless in the dim light, thick fringed lashes shading what looked to Mike like an invitation. _This was a mistake. I can’t conceal how I feel when I’m not in control of myself._ “Ches…” Mike was surprised by his own voice, barely above a whisper, his tongue heavy and slow in his mouth. 

“Hmmmm?” 

The hum was barely audible, ringing like music in Mike’s ears. The fingers, the black fingernails he’d painted a week ago, were now lightly scraping down his arm. Mike’s eyes followed the lines down his arm with interest, his throat tight. He wanted to lean over and taste him, taste Chester’s warm, beautiful mouth, and he knew without a doubt as his eyes lingered on those lips that he had to resist, that smoking tonight had been a mistake. Something had changed, something had shifted in their relationship in the long time that had passed since their last shared joint. Something had changed for Mike. 

Abruptly he shuffled to his feet, an uncharacteristic lack of grace in his movements, reaching for Chester and pulling him up, pressing the vocalist next to him tightly. “I think we should sleep in our own beds tonight,” he managed to say, and he felt Chester lean into him a little heavier. 

“But… I want to sleep next to you,” Chester whined softly, his lips next to Mike’s ear. 

Swaying a little on his feet, Mike turned his lips into Chester’s cheek, lingering over the soft skin as he breathed him in, the soft lavender he’d grown so accustomed to blossoming in his lungs. It sparked swirls of color behind his eyelids, warm swirls of Chester, and he tried to steady himself against the wave of emotions those colors elicited. “Ches,” he tried again, his voice more uncertain.

“Let me,” Chester breathed, and Mike felt moist lips graze his ear. The contact raised goosebumps on Mike’s neck, and his breath caught again as Chester continued, so softly it could have just been the breeze in Mike’s ear, “I promise… I’ll be good.” 

They leaned against each other for a few more moments until Mike finally ran his palms down Chester’s arms, stopping when he reached the top of the pink cast, and a thought occurred to him urgently. Breaking the tense intimacy, he pulled Chester inside and deposited him on the bed, then went to rummage around in his backpack. Chester was lying on his back, his casted arm out to the side, when Mike plopped down next to him, a Sharpie in hand.

“What are you doing, Mikey? I want to sleep.” Chester’s voice was soft, slurred, his eyes closed.

“Decorating your cast,” Mike answered, his voice determined, as though the fate of their entire lives was dependent on him drawing on the pink cast at that precise moment. It did feel as though it were critically important for Mike to doodle all over the cast, giving himself time to rein in the thoughts he was having about Chester’s mouth, his skin, his scent. With focused determination, Mike covered the cast in a peculiar collection of doodles, all while Chester lay on his bed, his free arm thrown over his eyes, his breaths slow and deep.

By the time Mike was finished, the time that had passed immeasurable and irrelevant, he’d shoved all the inappropriate thoughts he had about his bandmate back into the compartment they usually lived in, and he surveyed his artwork with appreciation. Enough time had passed he was certain he could climb into bed next to Chester and _just be there,_ just be a comfort. Leaning over, he kissed Chester’s forehead lightly. “Ches? I’m finished. Let’s go to bed.”

With bleary, unfocused eyes, Chester looked up at him, time stopping again for a moment as their eyes met.

 _Let’s go to bed. In another life, that would have a whole different meaning._ Mike looked down at Chester and felt his stomach twist into knots. It just wasn’t fair. He had a charmed life, everything he could ever want- except one thing. There was one thing that Mike Shinoda could never have, and it killed him that the universe had told him no, shut the door on every path that could have lead somewhere different. 

Chester reached a hand up to wrap around the back of Mike’s neck, and the emcee froze, unable to look away, terrified of what he might do if he didn’t move, right at that moment. He didn’t have to make a decision, though, as Chester seemed to realize what he was doing, sliding his hand down to Mike’s shoulder before the hand dropped back to the bed, his eyes suddenly unreadable. “You’ll let me stay?”

“Yeah,” Mike whispered, sliding off the end of the bed and reaching to pull down the blankets. “I want you to sleep well,” he continued by way of explanation. “You need to rest. To sleep better.”

Without saying anything, Chester scooted up in the bed until his head hit the pillows, and Mike pulled the blankets down underneath him until he could lift them up over Chester’s feet and back up to cover his body. He turned away and took off his shirt, tossing it aside before climbing in bed with Chester, a vivid sense of longing enveloping him as he pulled Chester’s warm body flush against his front, wrapping an arm securely around the vocalist’s waist. “There, now, Ches… go to sleep.” He felt Chester relax into him and he closed his own eyes, letting the peacefulness slide in all around them.

The next morning, Mike didn’t remember falling asleep, or even drawing on Chester’s cast. The last thing he remembered clearly was watching Chester’s lips wrap around the joint they shared out on the balcony. When he woke up there was a vague sense of unease, as though some secret he couldn’t remember had been shared between them. Chester was still deeply asleep when Mike discovered the note next to his phone, the note he’d scribbled down in the middle of the night when he’d woken up to use the bathroom. A line that had been in his head the instant he’d come awake, and he knew even while mostly asleep that if he didn’t write it down it would be forgotten by morning. The handwriting was sloppy, almost illegible, but it was enough to jog Mike’s memory. Even if it squeezed at his heart this morning, he felt something in the words… it had potential as a lyric. He couldn’t wait to share it with Chester once he woke up.

_‘Holding on to what I haven’t got.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my twitter for update notifications: @lpfan503


	7. Part One: MTM -- Toucan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you pay attention to the dates when I put one in a chapter. They’re important because if I didn’t make some time hops, this ten year span would take like… five hundred chapters.

[November 8, 2007]

“You shouldn’t be in here, Anna, the fumes aren’t good for you.” Mike frowned at his wife, standing in the door of the nursery, her huge stomach protruding far past the door frame on which she was leaning. In one hand he held a small paint brush for detailing, in the other was a small cup of pale yellow acrylic. He’d been applying the centers of his flowers when Anna drifted in to see the progress. 

It was as though Anna hadn’t even heard him as she looked around the room, three walls a delicate spring shade of green on top with white wainscotting on the bottom, and on the fourth a giant mural of cartoonish safari animals in muted shades. “Oh, Mike! This is amazing!” 

He’d been back at it for a few hours this afternoon and was just now into the finer detailed work he knew would bring the mural to life. Things like different shades of yellow in the center of his flowers, the individual hairs at the end of the zebra’s tail, the rippling of water in the stream… even though it had been a while since he had painted anything at all, much less an entire landscape, complete with animals, Mike thought it was looking good. Anna’s delighted response was confirmation. 

Mike set down the paint and balanced the paint brush across the top before he made his way over to Anna, sliding his hand over her stomach and around her back, pulling her to him and planting a kiss on the corner of her mouth. They both giggled at his bad aim. “Well, _somebody’s_ in the way,” he laughed, lighting patting the baby bump between them. He smiled as he looked at his wife’s face, rounder in pregnancy than usual, her cheeks in a perpetual state of light pink flush, her eyes bright with anticipation. When he leaned forward to kiss her again, his balance was better and their lips met softly, both of them still smiling. “I’m glad you like it. It’s been a long time since I painted any sort of landscape.”

“When you’re finished you should paint one for that big space downstairs in the dining room,” Anna suggested. “You could do something in autumn colors, to match. Oh, babe, I would love that so much!” The emotional tears that always seemed to be at the ready started to form in her eyes as she imagined how beautiful one of Mike’s paintings would be in their formal dining room.

“Of course,” Mike said softly, “anything you want, Anna. I’ll paint anything your heart desires.” He closed his eyes as she stroked the back of her fingers over his facial hair and down his neck before sliding her hand into the back of his hair. 

“I love you,” she said. “You’re going to be such a wonderful Daddy.” It was proclaimed with such love and conviction that Mike couldn’t help but feel uplifted by Anna’s words.

As much as he was looking forward to the birth of their first child, Mike wasn’t as certain that he would be even an okay father, by his own standards. In his own mind he was still struggling with the thought of leaving Anna and the baby at home while he was out living a completely different life on the road. _I love tour life. I love performing, I love everything about the band. What if I don’t even bond with the baby? What if he grows up resenting me, my work, everything that is important to me?_

Taking a step back, Mike opened his eyes and looked back at the mural. _Well, not everything that is important to me. This is important to me. Home. Family. Anna… this is the other half of my life. My entire life is not my work._ “I’m going to keep going, hon. I want this finished so we can set everything up before I leave out again. I don’t want you to have to do anything while I’m away.” 

There was another two weeks of performances coming up, all in Southeast Asia, and then six weeks off, where the baby would be born and Mike would be home for a few weeks before going back to Europe, then home to the States, touring for six weeks. He was grateful there had been little breaks in the tour this time, and it wasn’t almost nightly performances like their first few tours had been, but the six weeks they’d be on tour after the baby arrived seemed like it would be way too long. 

_At least Chester will have his cast off by then. By the time the baby comes._ Mike smiled as he picked up the paintbrush. It would make things so much easier out on the road without Chester being constantly upset over his limitations. 

_Chester._ It had been a week since he had seen the vocalist. As soon as they made it home from Australia, Chester had left for the cabin in Arizona with his family, and he and Mike had only texted sporadically since his departure. Chester had been busy with his kids, and Mike busy preparing for his, and time had just passed without much interaction. It hit MIke, as he switched brushes and paint colors and started detailing the zebra’s tail, that what he missed most about being on the road was hanging out with the guys, specifically Chester. He missed their nonsense games, ganging up on Brad, stealing Joe’s food, and all the other pranks they pulled as a team. He and Chester were one team, the way Dave and Rob were the rhythm team and Brad and Joe were the melody team. Mike and Chester were the lyric team, and these teams always seemed to bleed over into the pranks they played against each other. He missed their sleeping arrangements. He missed writing lyrics. He missed Chester a lot more than he could admit to anyone but himself.

Lost in thought, he’d finished the zebra tail and moved on to drawing delicate veins into the leaves on one of his trees when he felt the skin on the back of his neck break into goosebumps. Before he could turn around, Chester’s voice was in his ear.

“That’s beautiful, Mikey.”

Startled, Mike spun around, the green tipped paint brush coming into contact with Chester’s virgin white shirt. “Oh, shit, Chester, I’m sorry! You totally surprised me!” He was flustered as he tried to set down the brush and paint. “What are you doing here?”

Chester looked down at his shirt in amusement. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old shirt.” He pushed away Mike’s attempts to dab at the green spot, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. “We came home this morning. And on the way Tal was talking about Anna, and before you know it, we were ordering take-out and standing on your doorstep. I assumed Anna wouldn’t be wanting to cook, and you told me you were trying to finish the mural, so…” His voice trailed off and he looked uncertain for a moment. “I know it’s the last night home, and that’s family time, but… I missed you.” There was a lift in his expression as he continued, “and Tal really wanted to hang out, all of us together, before we go. So here we are.”

Mike looked at the tilt of the small, crooked smile Chester was giving him then, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “You guys really brought food? That was so thoughtful of you. You’re right, Anna doesn’t want to do anything that requires long bouts of standing right now.” He looked at his leaves and sighed, picking up an even smaller brush from his collection. “I just need to finish these leaves, and I’ll be down. Maybe ten more minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Chester said, dropping down neatly onto the floor and executing a quick set of twenty crunches with his casted arm crossed over his stomach. Mike watched him from the corner of his eye as he continued to draw on his leaves with a fine tipped paint brush. There were three more cycles of crunches completed before Mike set everything down and gave his full attention to Chester. Right as he turned, Chester sat up and pointed to the mural.

“You should put something there,” he said, pointing.

Mike’s eyes followed his finger and saw immediately what Chester was pointing at. A place on the wall that looked incomplete, off balance, compared to the rest. He was right. It did need something. “What do you think should go there?” Mike asked, genuinely curious what Chester would say. 

Without any hesitation, Chester answered, “a toucan.”

One black eyebrow raised as Mike considered the empty spot on the mural. “A toucan?”

“Yeah, you know, the bird with the huge rainbow beak.” 

“I know what a toucan is, Chester,” Mike rolled his eyes. “I just don’t know it that’s the right space for it. It might be too big.”

“Well, _I_ think that’s just what missing. A toucan. With a top hat.” Chester nodded his head with a smile. “And a monocle?”

Dissolving into laughter, Mike swatted Chester in the back of the head lightly. “You and your artistic eye. You took it one accessory too far.”

“You can never be over-accessorized.”

Mike grinned and reached out his hand for Chester to grab with his good arm, pulling him up from the floor smoothly. “What’s for dinner?” His eyes drifted briefly over the pink cast, his doodles on every square inch. It reminded him of tour, of weed, of waking up next to Chester.

“Chinese, of course. That’s the only take-out that’s worth it.” Chester looked scandalized as Mike scoffed.

“Nah, there’s Indian. Thai. Japanese. C’mon, Ches, there’s so much more out there than Chinese food.” Mike led the way down the hall toward the stairs, where he could hear Anna and Talinda’s voices drifting upward. “But Chinese sounds perfect for tonight,” he added, and Chester nodded in agreement.

Their wives were in the den already, Anna propped in Mike’s big leather recliner, her feet elevated and a pillow behind her back. Talinda was perched on the end of the sofa, and take-out cartons were strewn all over the coffee table as she served up steaming rice, chicken and vegetables. 

“It’s so nice of you guys to bring over dinner, Talinda. Thank you,” Mike said, sitting down on the other sofa opposite Talinda, taking a filled bowl from the table. He watched Chester sink down into the empty space beside Talinda and drop his hand on her neck, softly caressing her long, dark hair.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” 

Talinda’s voice was small and sweet, the way it always sounded, and Mike realized in the two and a half years since they’d met, he’d never heard her raise her voice. She was extremely patient and kind, and it was easy to see how Chester had fallen for her so hard and fast after the brash abrasiveness of Sam. There was an involuntary internal shudder at the thought of Chester’s ex-wife. They had never gotten along, and Mike had been ridiculously relieved when that relationship had finally met its crisis peak and burned out. Chester leaving Sam had been one of the better days of Mike’s life, if he was being honest with himself. He watched as Chester’s hand finally moved away from Talinda’s neck and he took the bowl she was offering him, balancing it on his lap as he tried to arrange his chopsticks in his right hand.

“Chester couldn’t stop talking about you while we were away, I thought it might be nice to hang out a bit before you left again… and I’m dying to see this mural he says you’re working on.” Talinda handed Anna a bowl before settling back next to Chester, looking over at Mike with interest.

The chopsticks stopped halfway to Mike’s mouth and his eyes flicked to Chester, who had given up on wrong-handed chopsticks and was eating with the serving spoon. _Did he miss me, too? Why didn’t he text me more then? I thought he was having a great time with the kids, with Tal… he was talking about me?_ He was about to offer to show Talinda the nursery when Chester spoke up.

Grinning as he shoveled food into his mouth with one-armed gusto, Chester spoke around a mouthful of rice. “You’ll have to take her up there and show her. It’s amazing.” He pointed at the ceiling with his chopsticks as he chewed. 

Anna beamed at Mike with pride as she nodded her agreement from the recliner. “It really is amazing! He’s done such a great job getting the nursery painted, we should be able to put the furniture in tomorrow and get everything else completed before you guys head out on the next leg of the tour.” Her smile faded slightly as she thought about Mike leaving again. It was hard to let him go, especially with the baby’s due date so close.

“I hope we can spend some time together while they’re gone,” Talinda said sincerely, bringing the brightness to Anna’s face again.

The chatter between the women continued, plans were being made, and Mike and Chester listened on with interest while eating, their eyes meeting occasionally. As soon as everyone had eaten, Mike took Talinda up to the nursery while Chester sat with Anna, trying to guess the baby’s name. Anna had been adamant about protecting the baby’s name until birth, she didn’t want anyone’s opinion to sway her. It was a name she’d had picked out for years, and Chester was trying every unusual name he could think of as Mike led Talinda upstairs.

“Xander… Elio… Thaddeus…” Chester’s guesses and Anna’s giggles followed them all the way to the nursery. 

They stepped inside and Talinda gazed over the walls for a moment, then made her way closer to the mural, slowly looking at all of Mike’s animals before she turned back to him. “This really is incredible, Mike. Chester was so right, you’re quite the accomplished artist.”

Mike could feel the blush sweep over his cheeks with Talinda’s delivery of Chester’s compliment. “Thanks... I really enjoy drawing, painting... I don’t get to do it much anymore, we’ve been away so much. Well, I guess I still sketch some out on the road, but I don’t get to paint hardly ever...”

Absently, Talinda nodded, hearing Mike’s words but clearly thinking about something else. His words trailed off and he could tell she was somewhere else altogether as she looked at Mike, a troubled expression on her face. “Mike… can I ask you something? About Chester?”

The second Mike heard the concerned tone of her voice he felt the blush fade and anxiety start to creep along his skin. He realized this was the real reason the Bennington’s had unexpectedly showed up at their door with dinner- Talinda wanted to talk to him. “Of course, Tal. What’s up?”

“It’s just… you’ve known him longer than I have, and… with his wrist broken and all, he’s just seemed… really down on himself. More than usual,” she clarified hastily. 

Mike knew that a lot of Chester’s mental struggles had come as a surprise to Talinda after their whirlwind romance. It wasn’t shocking to him that she was quietly asking him for advice right now. After all, he’d known Chester for ten years. He could almost be considered an expert at this point on ‘things that make Chester Bennington tick.’ 

“I woke up in the middle of the night while we were in Arizona and he’d been drinking after we all went to bed… he was drunk in the living room.” Talinda closed her eyes, her brows creased in pain as she spoke. “I hadn’t even thought about the liquor cabinet, Mike, he’s been doing so well. And I wasn’t thinking, I should have gotten rid of all of that stuff.”

Sliding an arm around her shoulders, Mike pulled Talinda in for a side hug. “Hey, it’s okay. He looks like he’s doing better tonight. What happened the night you found him?” _How far gone was he?_

Talinda couldn’t look up from the floor, and Mike got the district impression that she was holding some information back. “I got him to come to bed… we talked a little while he was drunk, and more in the morning after he’d sobered up…” She stopped and shook her head. “I just need to know, Mike, can you keep an eye on him during this leg? I’ve not been going to sleep until I know he’s asleep, trying to not leave him alone, not giving him the opportunity to relapse.” 

Mike shifted uncomfortably, thinking about the pot they’d shared a few weeks ago. Relapse was exactly what he’d been afraid of, and he had known better than to encourage Chester when he was feeling down. He still couldn’t remember everything that happened that night, and he was no longer convinced that the little baggie had only contained weed. 

“He’s really been in a negative place over his wrist, and being away so much. I thought going to the cabin with the boys would help but he seems almost like he’s pulling away from the kids, and me… he talked about you an awful lot, Mike. More than usual, I think.” She finally looked up from the floor, gazing at him with an expression Mike couldn’t exactly read.

His thoughts drifted back to the conversation he’d had with Chester months ago, before he even knew Anna was pregnant. Chester had been worrying about his relationship with his kids that night, but really hadn’t mentioned it since. Mike was finding it hard to believe that he was upset to the point of drinking again over his wrist. It was such a small, temporary thing to allow to derail his life. It had to be related to the kids, or something like that. A wrist was such a small thing...

“I’ve missed him too, Tal,” he said carefully. “We have a great time on tour, you bet I’ll be with him. I’ll make sure he’s okay.” Mike squeezed her arm in reassurance, but Talinda still looked unconvinced.

She drew in a huge, shaking breath, and exhaled as she whispered, “but what about night time? Mike? What about when he’s alone in his room, then what? How are we supposed to keep him safe?”

With a rush of adrenaline, Mike realized he was about to get Talinda’s blessing to spend the night with her husband. Not just one night, but every night of the tour. It was almost too good to be true, but Mike froze as he tried to think of what to say. _I can’t exactly offer to let him climb in my bed every night._

“Maybe you can just keep the doors between your rooms open?” Talinda offered. Mike’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Talinda laughed gently. “What, you didn’t think I knew about that? Anna and I laugh about that all the time. You two are so codependent sometimes. I don’t know what he would do without you.”

“Well, it… the rooms I mean... ah… it’s just easier to write and stuff, you know? When they’re connected?” Mike shuffled his sock covered floor along the carpet and scratched the back of his neck with his free hand as he looked down at his toe. 

Pulling away from his arm, Talinda stepped back over to the mural and placed her palm on the wall, in the very same spot Chester had pointed out. “I don’t care, Mike… if you’re thinking I’d be mad about… sharing him. You were here first, you know.” She didn’t turn around, and Mike didn’t dare move.

 _What does she mean by that? It sure as fuck sounds like she’s thinking… that she knows… how I feel. How could she? There’s no way. No way I’m that transparent. She just means that she’s okay with us being close, that’s why she’s asking for my help. Jesus, I have to be a good friend. I have to stop… thinking about him. I’ve made my choices._ “Tal,” he started, but Talinda cut him off.

“I just want to know that he’s going to be okay. Tell me you’ll do whatever you need to do to keep him safe, Mike.”

 _She still won’t turn around, won’t look at me._ “Is he really in that bad of a place?” His voice low, Mike glanced toward the door, afraid Chester would sneak up on him again and hear their discussion. 

“When he was drunk he was crying… for you, Mike. He wanted you.” Talinda finally revealed, turning to watch the impact her words were having on the emcee. “He said the only thing that would make him feel in control of himself was you-- sitting down and writing lyrics. I can’t do that for him. I can do a lot of things, but I can’t do that. That’s all you. Every line the two of you write, you’re saving him all over again. I could never take that away from him. I’m not jealous of your… friendship.” 

Mike could swear there was more behind her words than she was saying, but it didn’t matter if she believed there was anything else there. He was about to be a dad, a Papa, he had Anna, they were married, and above all, Chester didn’t feel that way about him. Mike was a lifeline, a distraction from his life, his friend, and that was all he would ever be, whether Mike was almost getting Talinda’s blessing to share her husband’s room or not. Weakly, he smiled. “Sounds like we’ll be writing the next album on this tour.” He looked straight at Talinda. “If he’s as emotional as you say he is, the fourth album should come together fast.” It was meant to be a joke, but neither of them laughed. “Don’t worry about him. I’ve got him. He’ll be with me, he’ll be fine. I promise you.” 

Mike could see the tears welling up in the corners of Talinda’s eyes as she drew near, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him close. “I love him so much, Mike… I want him to be happy.”

“He’s going to be fine. Come on. You’ve got to smile when we go back downstairs or he will know you’re worried. He probably already feels terrible that he upset you by drinking that night. I promise you, I’ve got him. I’ll be there. Let me worry about it for you.” Mike closed his eyes and swallowed hard. It seemed like they had just finished rehab, but he realized that was almost three years ago… it was hard to believe the end of the Meteora tour had almost been three years ago, and yet that hellish time with Sam and the drugs and was fresh in Mike’s mind. He didn’t want to go back there, ever. He’d do whatever it took. He refused to believe Chester was back in that headspace. Talinda had to be wrong. 

After a few more seconds Talinda stepped back, sniffling and blinking, but smiling. “Thanks, Mike. And the mural is truly wonderful.” She turned away and out of the nursery, leaving Mike no choice but to follow. 

Chester hadn’t noticed anything amiss when they made their way back downstairs, and the Benningtons stayed just another hour, chatting about everything and nothing, before politely excusing themselves home to relieve Tyler’s nanny and get him ready for bed. 

Even though it was still early, Anna was tired and ready to go to bed, and Mike followed her up the stairs, his private conversation with Talinda heavy on his mind. He was excited to go back on tour but now he was apprehensive of which Chester would be waiting for him every night. _I’ll just have to keep him busy. And no mini-bars. Jesus. You’d think they’d research that shit before they book hotels for us these days._ Mike was brooding over the evening and he and Anna brushed their teeth together in silence, occasionally looking at each other in the mirror but always missing the other’s gaze. 

Anna was already in the bed, arranging pillows to try to get comfortable, when Mike decided he needed a few more minutes in the nursery. He leaned over the side of the bed and kissed his wife before he said, “go ahead and go to sleep, hon. I thought of something else I’d like to add to the mural. It won’t take me long.”

“Promise… don’t be long,” Anna responded as she closed her eyes, and Mike knew she’d be asleep in minutes. 

“Promise,” he whispered, tucking the blanket tenderly under her chin. 

Without turning on a light, he made his way back down the hall to the baby’s room in the dark. As his hand hit the light switch and the mural came to life in front of him, Mike’s eyes were instantly drawn to the empty space Chester had pointed out earlier. He walked over to the wall and considered the location for a moment, then placed his palm flat against the surface as Talinda had done, his head dropping to stare at the ground. The next thing he knew, he was mixing paint, and merely an hour later, a chipper, rainbow-beaked toucan was occupying the once empty space, smiling back at him.


	8. Part One: MTM -- Subconscious

“It won’t be long, Chester. A few weeks. I’ll come every day, I promise you. I’ll be here during visiting hours.” He tried unsuccessfully to catch Chester’s eyes, but they were stubbornly fixed on the ground between them. A suitcase was at Mike’s side where he’d left it when they stopped before entering the building. There were lush green plants all around the grounds, between the building and the tall iron gates they’d had to provide identification to pass through. 

Chester shifted the single backpack strap that was over his left shoulder. “No. You won’t. You’ll be busy with Anna and the baby, you won’t have time for me. I’m fine, Mike, I don’t need to be here.” Chester finally looked up at Mike, and Mike was surprised to realize that his hair had grown back out and was at the length Mike loved best, just long enough to curl slightly… 

_When did that happen?_

“Yesterday we agreed, Ches. We talked it out and decided this was best. You just need a little extra help… and you’re not getting what you need from me right now. And I swear to you, I swear I’ll be here every day. Do you think I can stay away from you?” Mike sighed and reached for Chester, cupping the scruffy creek in his hand, brushing his thumb over those perfect lips. “I can’t, Chester, I can’t be away.” He swallowed hard as he thought about how he was touching the vocalist, thought about the line he was toeing with no concern for the consequences. His hand dropped and he took a step back, one foot of space now between them. “Maybe I need this as much as you. You need to get sober and I… I need to get my priorities straight.” His eyes widened as he looked at Chester’s face, his dark eyes anguished at the thought of Mike being away from him. “You’re right. I… I have a baby now.”

Their eyes met, the spark between them alive, reigniting a flame that had been buried under layers of indecision and denial. As he tried to back away, Chester dropped the backpack and threw himself at Mike, wrapping his arms around Mike’s neck and pulling him down, smashing their lips together fiercely, a strangled moan escaping the back of his throat. On instinct Mike’s hands found Chester’s hips and aligned their bodies as Chester’s tongue pressed forward, invading Mike’s mouth without waiting for an invitation. Warm, wet, and slippery, the kiss deepened rapidly as Chester crushed his body into Mike’s.

It was easy, melting into each other this way, as though they’d been doing it for years. Chester’s fingertips threading through the back of his hair, his hard grip on Chester’s hips, their breaths mixing in the air between them as demanding lips took possession of what was needed, necessary… had been needed for so long without any reciprocation, any indication that the other felt the same. Mike’s head was spinning from lack of oxygen, Chester’s desperate kisses leaving him breathless. He was quickly losing himself in the train wreck that was Chester’s current mental state of addiction and poor decision making.

“No! We can’t do this!” Mike commanded himself to pull away and he looked at Chester, but Chester was no longer the person he was kissing. Brad was staring up at him, his eyes wide and his lips glistening with the aftermath of Mike’s kisses. “Brad? Where’s Chester!”

He turned in a circle, frantically looking to see where Chester had disappeared, distressed to realize that he wasn’t standing outside the inpatient rehab center anymore, but standing in the middle of the game room in his parent’s house, and Brad didn’t have the out of control jewfro he was sporting these days- his hair smartly trimmed. _What in the fuck is going on?_

“What did you do with Chester? Why can’t you leave him alone?” Anger colored Mike’s voice as he raked his fingers through his hair, turning back around and glaring at his friend.

Silently, slowly, Brad’s hand raised to his face, and he touched his still wet lips with one fingertip, a thoughtful look on his face. When he made no move to speak, Mike grabbed his shoulder and shook him with more force than he intended, his voice tight as he yelled, “it’s not his fault, Brad, what did you do?”

“Stop! Mike, stop, you’re hurting me!” 

Mike blinked, his rage fading to horror as he realized it was Talinda he was shaking. He dropped his hands as though her body had sent an electric shock through him. “Shit… Tal… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh, fuck!”

With a start, Mike sat up in the darkness, his heart racing. Immediately he fumbled for the lamp switch next to the bed, trying to breathe as a dull amber glow illuminated the space beside him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned over, his palms clutching his shaking thighs, a clammy sheen of sweat over his body. As he struggled to slow his breathing and tame his heart, his mind flashed through the crazy dream he’d just pulled himself from. 

_That conversation with Talinda… that’s what caused this._ He turned to look across the bed at Anna, relieved as he reassured himself she was still there, sleeping peacefully, their son safely still in utero. His hands slowly relaxed their grip on his legs, and he reached with one to scratch over his face in thought, comforted by the quiet rasp of his fingers against his facial hair. _It won’t get that far, we won’t be going back to rehab, I promised him the first time, I wouldn’t let that happen again._ Mike frowned. It was hard to keep a promise like that when they weren’t on tour, when they weren’t always together. He’d assumed Talinda would be able to fill that role, _should_ be able to fill that role, but based off what she’d told him, he wasn’t sure it was working. _That’s not fair. She didn’t know, and he got up and drank after she was asleep. It doesn’t do any good to blame anyone. It’s nobody’s fault. I need to know why he decided to drink. That’s the real question._

With a quiet sigh, Mike slid off the bed, shoving his glasses onto his nose and his hand over the top of his head. _I miss my hair. I think it’s time to grow it back._ He knew he couldn’t ask Chester about it, he’d be betraying Talinda’s trust and shaming Chester in the process. Unless Chester decided to tell him about that night in Arizona, Mike would be forced to keep it a secret. There was no way he could tell Chester that his wife had asked him to keep an eye out for gloomy moods and drinking binges. _Not that she needed to tell me that. I always keep an eye on him._

The lamp was flipped off and Mike crept quietly through the bedroom in the dark, the space so familiar he could navigate it with his eyes closed. A cup of hot tea sounded good, and Mike had just put the kettle on when his gaze landed on a bag he left on the bar, a bag containing two new sketchbooks and his favorite pencils. Once he’d stirred honey into the tea, he sat down on one of the barstools and took out one of the new books, holding it up to his nose and inhaling deeply. If there was one thing Mike loved, it was the smell of new art supplies. It brought a smile to his face as he flipped the book open and inspected a pencil before absently starting to draw.

While he drew his mind drifted around as it usually did when he was sketching, but tonight his thoughts kept returning to the dream. Kissing Chester. Kissing Brad. The longing, the fear, the anger that had felt so real before he woke up. He hadn’t thought about his relationship with Brad in any great detail for years. It was an adolescent part of him that he had said goodbye to, made his peace with, boxed up with extra strength adhesive and shelved in the dark corners of his mind, unwilling to open and revisit any of the memories. It wasn’t hard to figure out why a dream of finally kissing Chester had evolved into kissing Brad. Mike wasn’t a psychology major but he wasn’t an idiot. There might as well have been a huge neon sign flashing in the background of his dream: **repression**. He’d been trying to shove away the nature of his feelings for Chester for a long time, and his subconscious mind was screaming at him to wake up and understand. He wasn’t looking out for Chester simply from the standpoint of a bandmate or a business partner. Mike was in love.

The hand holding the pencil paused for a moment and Mike’s eyes rested unfocused on the sketch in front of him. _In love. Is that what’s going on here? How can I be in love with Chester? I love my wife. It’s not love. It’s lust, it’s shared experience and proximity and Chester’s flirtatiousness. It’s not love. Love is reciprocal. Chester loves Talinda._

His eyes focused on the sketchbook and saw the outline of Chester’s head the way Mike had viewed it hundreds of times from his keyboard perch on stage. Given a line up of men’s heads shown from behind, Mike was certain he could pick out the shape of Chester’s skull one hundred percent of the time. He’d poured his heart out through lyrics while staring at the back of that man’s head more times than he could count. He’d played piano and guitar and rapped looking at the perfection that was the back of Chester’s head. And clearly, he could also sketch it from memory.

There was something grounding about watching his own hand create a vision of Chester on his paper. It wasn’t the first time. In his art studio upstairs there were filled sketchbooks of Chester. It was his favorite subject to work on when he wanted to clear his thoughts-- his mind, his memory committed to paper. It was fascinating to draw Chester. He was a study in various shapes and angles, lines and shading, and depending on the day or the outfit or even just the haircut, Mike had to employ different techniques to get exactly what he saw in his mind down on the paper. In the early morning hours, he was shading the delicate space behind Chester’s ear when the air suddenly felt heavy in his lungs, his freed mind starting to connect the dots. 

_I was in love with Brad, way back then. And Brad pushed me away. That’s why I was kissing him in my dream. He didn’t want me then. And Chester doesn’t want me now. Whether I’m in love with him or not is irrelevant. Keeping him safe is not about love. Well, not romantic love. I can’t be in love with Chester. That’s why Brad was there. It’s a closed door, Shinoda._

He looked down at that spot behind Chester’s ear and allowed himself for a moment to imagine what that skin would feel like underneath his lips. Soft, virgin white territory. He imagined that Chester would sigh and lean into his lips, that he would want Mike to touch him, to kiss him that way... 

He tried to remember what had been said in the dream, but all he could remember was the heat between him and Chester as they kissed. He allowed himself to wonder if it would be that hot between them in reality. _And then what? What would happen after I kissed him- or he kissed me? Is that all it would ever be? Would there be more? Would we… would we…_ Mike shook his head, not permitting himself to try to imagine past kissing. _You’re pathetic, Mike. Your pregnant wife is upstairs asleep and you’re down here trying to justify your feelings for your friend. Your unreciprocated feelings. It doesn’t matter that he looks at you with that look in his eyes sometimes._ His current thoughts came to an abrupt halt again, a new thought entering his mind. _Even if that look is what you think it is, neither of you can ever admit it. You’re married. He’s married. You aren’t a cheater, you have a baby coming, you love Anna. You can’t have a relationship with a man. Brad was right. That’s not how it works._

The little patch of skin behind his pencil sketch of Chester’s ear seemed to glow with warmth for a moment as Mike looked at it. Mike could smell Chester’s shampoo as he stared down at his drawing. It became suddenly clear to Mike what he should do. He should take all of his longing for Chester, all of the unrealized desires of his heart, and package them neatly away alongside his past with Brad, and try to forget. He needed to try to forget the way the other man’s body felt next to his the few nights they’d lain together in bed, close enough to touch. He needed to refocus his mind on the practical aspects of their friendship, and stop allowing his mind to wander into dangerous territory. He needed to just do better at being a husband, an almost father. 

But- could he box away the feelings he had for Chester? After all, Chester had done nothing to break his heart the way Brad had done. Chester was nothing but continuous encouragement, almost worshipful of everything Mike said and did around him. He wanted Mike near, wanted to make him laugh, to share jokes and food and smokes, wanted him close when Brad had just thrown him away. And Mike wanted to be close. Maybe he could just set aside the lust and enjoy the rest? 

_What I have with Chester is so completely different than what I had with Brad. For one, it’s not a physical relationship. And it will never be, because Chester doesn’t feel that way about me. Even if he did, I can’t have an affair. That’s not me. I could never let everyone down like that. And it’s not like Brad because… because… it’s Chester._ With another heavy sigh, Mike closed the sketchbook, and swallowed the last of the tea, grimacing at how cold it was now. 

No amount of justification mattered when it came to Chester. Mike could sit downstairs for hours trying to tell himself that he wasn’t in love with Chester, but he could see through his own lies. It was different that anything he’d ever had with Brad. Brad had been his childhood, a coming of age story, an experiment in which the other party had thrown up their hands and said, no more. Mike had thought back then that it was love he felt, but it was infatuation. It had crippled him initially, yes, and even the brief relationship he’d had with Jennifer hadn’t made the sting of Brad’s rejection fade… but he’d met Anna and all of that dissolved. Anna had saved him. She was perfect. Anna had loved him back, had made loving her so easy, had made him want to get married and have children, even after Chester came along. 

_Even after Chester came along._ Mike shook his head at himself. He hadn’t married Anna because Chester had come along, so desirable yet unavailable. Marrying Anna had been the plan since he’d slipped that Xero demo cassette in her hand at Brad’s party. He did love her. He did. He didn’t need to convince himself of that, it was fact the way he knew that gravity existed and the Earth spinning created day and night. 

Chester was just… who he was, and Mike also loved him, and yet… it could never be... so he just had to deal with it. _Put it in the box and set it aside, Shinoda. You can love him, but nobody can ever know the depth of that love. Nobody can ever know._

The problem for Mike was that his mind could not just love the woman he was married to. His mind was also in love with a man, a man he could never admit to loving. It was all so much to carry around with him every day, and he felt the weight of those feelings as he climbed the stairs back to his bedroom. Mike was a good man, he was going to love his wife and child and protect his friend from himself, all the while nobody would be any wiser about the internal struggles of his heart. It was the only way.

He slid into bed next to Anna, and as he placed his glasses on the bedside table, she shifted in the bed, her drowsy voice drifting softly through the darkness.

“Mike? Everything okay?”

Snuggling up next to his wife, his lips found her shoulder and kissed her through the thin cotton of her pink maternity t-shirt. “Yeah, just had a nightmare… went down to have a cup of tea and sketch for a bit. All better now,” he whispered, ghosting his hand over her belly. “I love you, go back to sleep.”

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling as he listened to Anna’s breaths slow into sleep again. When sleep finally came again, it was dreamless.

In the morning, Anna woke first, and was busy making coffee for her sleeping husband when her eyes fell on the sketchbook. Smiling, she reached for it, curious what he’d woken up to draw in the middle of the night.

She wasn’t expecting to see the outline of the back of Chester’s head, sketched in such detail it looked like a photograph. She tilted her head to the side, looking at the fine lines of Chester’s neck, the back of his ears, the hair Mike had painstakingly drawn, and realized he’d been awake longer than he tried to make it seem. It also occurred to her that perhaps he didn’t expect her to see what he’d been sketching… the drawing seemed quietly intimate. With a glance up the stairs, she closed the book and placed it back where Mike had left it, absently stroking a hand over her stomach as she thoughtfully chewed on her bottom lip.


	9. Part One: MTM -- Dependence

[November 22, 2007]

“I should probably head home,” Talinda murmured softly, one hand still holding a teacup, the other arm wrapped around Tyler, who was asleep on her chest. “I think he wore himself out.” She smiled fondly over the top of the baby’s head, pressing her lips to his crown, her eyes meeting Anna’s. “It’s been so great to hang out this afternoon and chat.”

“We really do need to get together more often,” Anna agreed. “I just don’t want to move from this chair. Ever.” Feet propped up and leaning back slightly in Mike’s recliner was about as comfortable as Anna was able to get at 37 weeks pregnant.

Talinda giggled. “I remember those days. You’re so close now!” She rubbed light circles on the baby’s back and sighed. “Just having someone else to talk to… it makes the days seem shorter, you know?” 

Anna nodded, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, “I’m sure the days will seem even longer once he arrives.” Looking down at her stomach, Anna frowned for a moment. “Tal… I’m afraid of doing this alone. They’re away so much…”

Between baby talk and birth stories, Anna and Talinda had chatted about their husbands casually, the remaining tour dates, and how Mike had already hinted at starting the next album soon. They would be away in two more huge chunks of time before they wrapped up touring this album, and the baby would be four months old before Mike was back for any significant amount of time. The whole idea seemed particularly daunting as Anna listened to Talinda talk of Tyler’s early days-- late night feedings, waking up every few hours, and now the teething… it sounded like _so much._

“I don’t want to seem… ungrateful…” she went on, glancing around the room. “I mean, I’m so proud of Mike, and all of the band’s success… but… it just feels as though I’ll be single momming it so much of the time, even though I’m married.” 

Talinda smiled gently as she set her tea cup on the side table, careful not to wake Tyler. “There are days it feels that way, I’m not going to lie. It can be pretty lonely. But we have each other… and really, we should have Linsey over, too, you guys are due around the same time… and Elisa in March.” Talinda grinned suddenly and laughed as she realized, “you can definitely tell when the guys were home from tour! It’s a Linkin Park baby boom!” 

Anna’s eyes widened as she thought about all the pregnancies in the band, realizing for the first time how close together the three Linkin Park wives babies would be, how the lack of coincidence was undeniable. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. It warmed her heart a bit to think that all of the guys missed their wives while out on tour. They were all such sweet, good-hearted, loyal men, not like typical rock stars. It escaped her at the moment that Chester was on his third ‘baby mama’, not that it seemed to matter much to anyone in the band, or to Talinda.

“Just think of it this way,” Talinda’s sincere voice broke into Anna’s thoughts, “it’s an opportunity for us to become closer. We’ll all need each other. And wouldn’t it be great if all the wives could share the same relationships that our husbands share?” Instantly, Anna was back to worrying her bottom lip with her teeth again, a furrow in her brow, and Talinda picked up on the instant change in demeanor when she’d mentioned relationships. “What’s wrong? All of a sudden, you look upset.”

Stroking over her stomach in lazy circles, Anna looked thoughtfully at Talinda, weighing her thoughts of what she suspected against what she knew, unsure if she should say anything. The sketch she’d found of Chester the night before Mike left out on tour again had been troubling her since that morning, and she hadn’t had to courage to ask Mike about it when he came downstairs that morning, all smiles and kisses as he slowly woke up over the coffee she’d made. She couldn’t get out of her mind the intricacy of Mike’s work, the detailing, the odd angle that made the entire drawing seem so intimate. 

“Anna? Are you feeling okay?” Talinda started to shift Tyler in order to stand, but Anna held her hand out.

“Don’t get up, it’s okay.” Her eyes fixed on the back of Tyler’s head, the wispy, baby-fine dark hair, his tiny ears that stuck out just a little, just like Chester’s. “I just… I was wondering… what you think of Chester’s relationship with Mike.” Anna’s face looked a little stunned, as though she were surprised she’d actually uttered the words aloud. They had never discussed their husbands’ relationship, even though there had always been something different about the way they interacted with each other, different from the way they interacted with the other band members.

Talinda followed Anna’s gaze, looking down at Tyler, before she answered. “They’re close, aren’t they?” She pressed another kiss to the baby’s head and closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of baby soap and powder, feeling his warm skin on her cheek. “Mike is so good to him. Chester’s said so many times he wouldn’t have made it through the split with Sam without Mike. I’m grateful Mike is with him when they’re away.” When Anna didn’t acknowledge her, Talinda forged ahead. “I hope I didn’t cross a line, Anna… I probably should have mentioned to you that I asked Mike to keep an eye on him on this next part of the tour-”

Anna’s eyes snapped up from the baby and she squinted a little as she tilted her head in question. “What? Why? Is Chester okay?”

“I… I think so… I don’t know. He’s been really good, diligent about his sobriety…” Talinda paused, considering her next words, how much she wanted to reveal. “He’s been upset about the broken wrist, the changes in the set, feeling like he’s inconveniencing the guys… I just asked Mike to keep an eye on him, just in case.” 

“Well, Mike doesn’t have a problem with that, I know. He’s always felt responsible for Chester. When they were first starting out, Mike really made an effort to build their friendship, and now… now they’re practically inseparable. They’ve been through a lot together, with the band and… otherwise.” Both hands were now petting softly over her stomach as Anna continued. “Mike worries over him, you know. Sometimes I think more than he worries over me.”

Talinda watched her friend for a moment, not really sure what to say. She knew exactly where Anna’s feelings were coming from. Even before she and Chester were married, she knew that part of Chester’s heart was held by Mike. She’d even gone so far as to suggest directly to Chester that he was actually in love with Mike, but that suggestion had been brushed off as nonsense, and she hadn’t brought it up again. Chester had done nothing but shower her with affection and adoration, appreciation and almost reverence. From Talinda’s viewpoint, his relationship with Mike was much the same, though absent of any major physical affection. As far as she knew, they’d never crossed any physical boundaries-- though it wouldn’t have surprised her. “Mike loves you, Anna... you don’t see the way he looks at you, the way the rest of us see it.” 

There was a moment’s pause before Anna said, “Is it the same way he looks at Chester?” Anna’s tone was soft but her question sharp, and the two women’s eyes met over the top of Tyler’s head once again. 

Knowing exactly nothing about the nature of Chester’s relationship with Mike outside of friendship, the only course of action Talinda could see as she looked at her swollen, exhausted friend was denial. “You’re tired, Anna, and emotional. You’re tired of being pregnant, I remember the feeling. But as far as Mike and Chester… I don’t see what you’re seeing, Anna… they’re best friends,” she said softly. “You’ll see, all these thoughts, they’ll be gone when you and Mike are at the hospital holding this new baby. You won’t have any doubts. Mike is going to be a wonderful father.”

With her eyes closed, Anna sighed. “He really is. I know I’m just being a basket of crazy right now. Hormones and all, I suppose.” 

Talinda stood up carefully, one arm around Tyler’s softly diapered bottom, the other hand curled around his tiny neck, holding his head against her chest. “Hormones _are_ a bitch… but it will get better. And remember,” she said, picking up Tyler’s diaper bag, “even when Chester and Mike aren’t around… we’ve always got each other.”

**********

Over the top of his book, MIke watched Chester on and off as he chewed on his pen cap, staring first down at the notebook in front of him, then at the television, in a cycle that had now lasted over an hour. Despite the dark glasses perched on his nose, Mike could see the different emotions cross the vocalist’s face as he thought things through, as inspiration would strike and he’d scribble in the notebook for a moment, only to furrow his eyebrows a moment later and scratch through it viciously. The pen cap had almost succumbed to Chester’s oral fixation, the end chewed so thoroughly after the past hour that Mike was sure it was about to be bitten off. His eyes drifted over Chester’s long sleeved baby pink t-shirt, his plain black pajama pants covering criss-crossed legs, and Mike smiled at the innocence his appearance evoked when all of his tattoos were covered.

Feeling himself being watched, Chester looked up at Mike, catching the emcee staring, and he smiled wickedly. “See something you like?” 

Without missing a beat, Mike tossed his novel to the side and teasingly replied, “just trying to see what all the fuss is about, Bennington.”

Chester smirked and flicked his notebook at Mike frisbee style, the pages fluttering wildly as the book flew into Mike’s lap. “This. This is what all the fuss it about. Because we sure as hell know it isn’t this ugly face.”

Mike rolled his eyes at the self-deprecating remark, and picked up the book, Chester’s familiar writing scrawled all over the page. Weaving around through the lyrics that had not been scratched out, he managed to piece together a few lines.

_Waiting for the end to come_  
_Wishing I had strength to stand_  
_This is not what I had planned_

A sinking feeling hit Mike’s stomach suddenly as he keep scanning his eyes down the page.

_All I want to do is trade this life for something new_  
_Holding on to what I haven’t got_

Recognizing his line from a month ago, Mike’s eyes flicked to Chester’s immediately, all the teasing gone from his expression. “I didn’t know you’d been trying to do anything with that lyric.” He eyes were worried as he looked back down at other lines, words scratched out, re-written, then scratched out again. “Ches? Are you feeling okay? Some of this stuff is kinda… dark.”

With a bitter laugh, Chester leveled his gaze on Mike. “Isn’t it all kinda dark?” He leaned his head back on Mike’s headboard and closed his eyes.

“Chester. You know what I mean.” Mike had been wanting to bring up the drinking in Arizona since Talinda had confided in him, but there was no way to address it without giving up the source of the information. Chester had been irritable back on the road, and Mike was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, trying to attribute the mood to his casted arm and lack of mobility when it came to certain tasks, like showering or playing guitar. Just the previous night, Chester had snapped at him as Mike tied the plastic bag over the cast in order for him to take a shower. Mike just let it roll off his back and when Chester had come back from showering, apologetic, they’d settled into their now familiar touring sleeping arrangement, easily sharing the bed with no arguments in Mike’s room- just as they were tonight.

It was as though the floodgates opened when Mike said his name, and hot, shameful tears began slipping from under Chester’s lashes. In one swift movement, Mike was at his side, the lyrics still clutched in one hand. “Ches? What’s wrong?” The concern was obvious in Mike’s voice as he reached out and placed his palm on Chester’s knee, giving it an anxious squeeze.

“I’m just tired, Mike. I’ve got all this shit in my head that’s just dragging me down, you know?” Without waiting, Chester shook his head, tears still falling. “No, you don’t have any idea. Even though you try, Mike, I know you do, you don’t know what it’s like to have this voice in your head telling you what a fuck up you are all the time.”

Mike looked down at his hand on his friend’s knee and shook his head as well. “You’re not a fuck up, Chester. Is this all about your wrist? Or is something else going on I should know about?” He waited, barely breathing, wondering if Chester would confide in him or not. It would make things so much easier if he just came out and told Mike what Talinda had already shared with him. 

The deep sigh from Chester’s lips caused Mike to look up, and he was startled to find Chester looking at him through dark, tear-filled eyes. A moment later Chester was sliding his hand into Mike’s, and the emcee felt his breathing hitch at the vulnerability in Chester’s gaze. “It’s not just my wrist,” he whispered, shame laced through his voice. “That was like, the final thing that just pushed me over into this dark place. Mike... I’m back in that place. I just feel… I feel awful.”

“Are you sure?” Mike’s voice was barely a whisper, the fear creeping up through his stomach and his chest. He knew what _that place_ was… that place Chester’s mind went to when he felt like he was a burden on everyone around him, that dark place where he started to think that maybe his family and his friends would be happier if they weren’t having to babysit his every move. Since Mike had known him, that dark place had kept Chester on a suicide watch twice before, and he was terrified of the implications if Chester was feeling that hopeless again. “Chester… please, tell me what’s going on,” he begged quietly. 

They sat together in silence as Chester worked through his thoughts, trying to put words to what he had been feeling, the things with which he had been struggling. “It’s been a lot of things. Not being around my kids, all the negative shit people have said about the album… I didn’t want to bother you with it all, I thought I could deal with it but when we were on the last break, and I took Tal and the kids to Arizona, I just… God, I don’t know, Mike, I just missed you,” he said in a rush, looking anxiously at Mike. “When we’re together, when we’re writing, or singing, or out on the road performing, that’s when I feel sane. That’s when I feel like I have a purpose. It’s so hard to go back home, where everything is so…” he trailed off, but Mike knew where the conversation was headed.

“Normal?” he supplied, and Chester nodded. “I know what you mean, Ches, and I… I missed you too.”

Their eyes were connected only for a moment more before Chester dropped his head and whispered, “I’ve been drinking again, Mike. Tal woke up one night at the cabin and I was drunk off my ass. I didn’t intend to get drunk, I really didn’t. I don’t know how that always happens.”

Relieved that Chester was finally letting him inside the truth, Mike squeezed his hand and spoke gently, calmly. “You’re an alcoholic, Chester. That’s how it happens. You don’t have the ability to regulate what you’re drinking, that’s why we work so hard to keep you away from that stuff. Is that why you’ve been so moody? I haven’t seen you with a drink since we left LA, are you… are you missing it?”

With a wretched moan, Chester pulled his hand from Mike’s grip and covered his face. “I’ve been better since we got back on the road, with you here beside me… I let you down, Mike. I couldn’t help myself and I let you down. I let Talinda down, you should have seen her face. And all that does is make me feel more like shit, more like you both deserve better than me-”

“Stop it. Stop, Chester. Look at me.” Mike’s words were urgent as he moved to cup the vocalist’s chin in his hands, forcing him to look up. “Talinda loves you. I love you. We’re both here for you because we want to be, not because someone or something is forcing us to be with you. Ches,” Mike’s voice broke a bit even as he tried to keep it strong, to convince Chester he was worth every bit of love he recieved. “I’ve told you before, I don’t know what my life would be without you. I’d probably be working in some… advertising agency as a fucking ad artist or some shit.” He smiled briefly, thinking about how ridiculous that sounded in light of the fact that he was part of a world famous band these days. “Everything I have is because of you. Everything your family has, the guys… our families… that’s because you spent your last dime to fly to LA and audition for us. You’re the most selfless person I know, Chester, you have to stop beating yourself up over such small things. You couldn’t help breaking your wrist. _None_ of us cared about the set changes, we were all just so glad it wasn’t anything worse.”

Chester blinked, the last of his tears falling onto his shirt, and Mike could see that he wanted to believe what Mike was telling him. He kept talking softly. “I know the stuff with the kids… i know that’s bigger, that’s harder stuff, and I know you have regrets, Ches, but you can’t go back. You can only go forward, you can only try to make today and tomorrow better. Your kids, they love you, I know they do. You have to let go of some of that guilt. You’re letting that stuff drag you down.” 

They were close, mere inches from each other, Chester’s chin held in Mike’s strong grip, Chester’s shuddering breaths fanning over Mike’s face, Chester’s shaking hands now grasping at Mike’s wrists as though he were afraid Mike would back away and leave him alone. 

With conviction, Mike held his eyes and promised, “I’m here, Ches, I won’t let you stay in that place. I won’t let you stay down there, I won’t.” 

“And when we go back home? Then what?” There was a look of desperate hope in Chester’s eyes as he continued to hold on to Mike’s wrists, their arms linked together.

Mike swallowed hard and his forehead crinkled as he forced himself to say the right thing. “You’ll have Tal… she wants you to be safe, too, Chester.” His thumbs stroked over the vocalist’s cheeks, wiping away the last of the tears, and then without thinking, he rose up on his knees and kissed Chester’s forehead. “It’s gonna be okay, Ches.”

He could swear that Chester leaned into his lips, breathing him in before he released Mike’s wrists, his body dropping limply back onto the pillows propped on the headboard. “You say that, Mike… and I want to believe it’s true. I believe in you… just not so much in myself. I feel so… dependent on you. And I hate that.” He sunk further back into the pillows, stretching his hand out to find Mike’s. “But I love you for always being here for me.”

It wasn’t the first time they had declared their love for each other, both of them meaning more than what the other assumed. With a soft smile that barely crinkled the corners of his eyes, Mike squeezed Chester’s hand.

“Remember, Ches… we’ve always got each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “See something you like?” is directly taken from chapter 59 of Confession… and gives more context to this chapter, if you want to refresh your memory


	10. Part One: MTM -- Little Things

[November 30, 2007]

Up until time for the huddle, Mike had kept a watchful eye on Chester, despite the vocalist’s seeming indifference. The last show of the Southeast Asia tour was upon them, a week after Chester’s tearful confession in a Japanese hotel, and the flight home from Korea tomorrow was weighing heavily on Mike’s mind. It had been a successful week of shows, and each night Chester had managed to make his way into Mike’s bed somehow, either falling asleep there accidentally, or bluntly asking to stay. Mike wasn’t sure why Chester even bothered to ask anymore. He knew that Mike would never say no, not when Chester needed the comfort, needed the stability, needed the distraction. 

_”And when we go back home? Then what?”_

Mike couldn’t shake the dread he’d been feeling all day as Chester’s words tumbled around in his head. It wasn’t his place to take care of Chester at home. His role as caretaker was officially surrendered the moment the plane touched down in LA, whether he wanted to give up the control or not. Chester had a wife, and Mike was forced to take a backseat when they were at home. He couldn’t help but feel as though Chester had been asking him for more that night a week ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask what exactly Chester needed from him. It felt almost distrustful for Mike to bring it up, as though he didn’t believe that Chester could stay sober without him, and that wasn’t the message Mike wanted to send. 

_Chester’s moods have been more stable since we talked last week. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe we’re already past the worst of it again. He’s been writing a lot, we’ve been writing a lot, he says he’s going to finish the tracks with Ryan during this break… maybe it will be enough to keep him busy. Maybe we’ll be able to get together and I can listen to the finished record._ He smiled at the thought and looked over at Chester.

They were across from each other in the huddle, which was the way they both preferred it when they were not next to each other. Most times Mike found himself sandwiched between Brad on one side and either Rob or Joe on the other, and Chester most often had Dave next to him. It was just the way things tended to work out. For Mike, being next to Chester was almost a distraction. The smell and heat emanating from the vocalist, combined with his arm slung casually around Mike’s back, made him unable to focus on Dave’s prayers, Chester’s silly puns, and especially Brad’s last minute instructions.

As their heads were bowed into the center of the huddle for Dave’s quick blessing, Mike’s attention snapped to Brad as the guitarist’s arm shifted and his fingers stroked lightly over the emcee’s exposed neck unexpectedly. Turning his head slightly and cracking an eye in Brad’s direction, he saw amusement twinkling in Brad’s eyes, a stolen moment of mirth in the solemness. Mike barely cracked a smile as he shook his head no, but winked at Brad before turning his attention back to Dave’s words, throwing in his own silent prayer for the safety of his bandmates that evening. 

In just seconds the reflective mood shifted to excitement as Chester waited for precisely the right moment in the huddle to throw in his Seoul/soul joke, and Mike squeezed Brad’s side close to him before they all broke apart, preparing to go on stage. It was such a little thing, the surreptitious squeeze or touch... such a little thing that he and Brad did every time they were next to each other in the huddle. It was their own pre-show tradition, one that started back in their Xero days and had never faded, even as they had grown older. Like hearing Chester’s puns and Dave’s prayers, Mike knew he wouldn’t feel complete walking on stage if he and Brad hadn’t quietly acknowledged each other.

Even though Mike was able to focus once they were on stage that night, the thought of going back to LA in the morning hung in the back of his mind, poking into his thoughts every time he crossed Chester’s path. The start of the set was high energy, and even when his hand met Chester’s back or Chester’s eyes found his, thoughts of home were fleeting. He even made it through the hardest part of the set-- the mellow middle section, the songs that featured Mike behind his keyboard and spotlights only on himself and Chester, the part that had in recent weeks started to pull at his heart with a bit more emotion than they did before Chester’s rehab experience. _Pushing Me Away_ into _Breaking the Habit_ was always hard on Mike now, always brought up thoughts of that destructive time, and he was never quite sure how Chester managed those songs these days. But, as always, those songs passed, and the back of set was tight. By the time they were backstage, toweling off for the encore, Mike had almost been sucked into the energy of the show enough to forget it was their last performance for six weeks. 

While Mike changed his shirt, quickly tossing the sweat soaked one away and pulling a new one over his head, Chester caught his eyes, running the towel over his face one more time and shrugging into a striped t-shirt. There was a different sort of energy crackling in the air between them on this particular night, this last night in Korea, and as they started the encore, Mike couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. He felt untethered as they came back on stage and he took his place behind his keyboard, the disconnected feeling still present as the guitar was dropped over his shoulder and in front of him. All the while, his eyes were on Chester. 

The vocalist was still dripping sweat from the set despite the break, and Mike watched, mesmerized, as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of Chester’s face slowly, glimmering in the stage lights, falling and sparkling like a diamond just as Mike started the chords at the beginning of _The Little Things Give You Away_. He bit his lip as Chester wrapped both hands around the mic and ducked his head, and all Mike could see was the slope of his neck and his flamed wrists, and the glistening droplets as they cried their way to the stage floor.

His eyes were still cast in Chester’s direction when the vocalist lifted his face, his own eyes dreamy and far away, and he started singing, meeting Mike’s gaze. Just two lines in, and Chester was removing the earpiece on the side closest to Mike, a fingertip briefly touching the black plug with the skull and crossbones on it before tucking the abandoned earpiece into the collar of the fresh shirt he’d just put on backstage. 

As Mike strummed from his position behind the keyboard, he could sense Brad in his peripheral, see the vague form of Dave on the other side of Chester, and he could feel Rob on the platform behind him, the ride cymbal fill settling neatly into the groove he and Dave had established. It was impossible to look away as Chester completed his phrases with those sexy breaths that sent shivers down Mike’s spine, and he focused in on Chester’s lips, so close to the microphone that they brushed across the surface sensually. The pain of his own teeth biting into his bottom lip collided with the sudden unbidden thought of his own mouth being in the place of Chester’s mic; what it would feel like to have Chester’s lips so close to his own, what it would feel like as he formed each word, what it would feel like for those lips to ghost over his… the sharpness of his teeth focused him for a moment, and when he lifted his eyes back to Chester’s, the vocalist’s gaze was hazy, almost lustful. 

_Don’t wanna reach for me, do you?_   
_I mean nothin’ to you_   
_The little things give you away-_

Mike watched breathlessly as his lips turned up into a small, sly, knowing smile before he swung around to face the crowd, plucking the mic from the stand so in a few more verses he’d be free to move to the music as Brad played his solo.

The solo. It was Mike’s cue, he knew, to stand and come forward on stage to his own mic, but he was temporarily frozen in place while he watched Chester twirl and dip to the music. In a fog he stood, his guitar in front of him, and made his way to the front of the stage, looking away from the wonder that was Chester dancing only long enough not to fall on his ass in front of a stadium full of people. The sound of Brad’s guitar filled the arena and Mike closed his eyes for a moment as he took his place behind the mic, screaming his senses into focus, battling with himself to pay attention. 

All of his effort was wasted when he turned slightly to face Chester, and brought his own lips as close as he could to the microphone, his stomach clenching as they brushed the surface while he sang. Mike took in the sight of the strain in the long lines of the vocalist’s neck as he belted out the end of the song, his voice soaring overhead while his own was breathy, shaky, repeating his lines. Then their eyes found each other again and Mike completely gave in to the moment, allowing himself to make love to the microphone with his lips as Chester did the same, the electricity shooting through his veins and pooling in his stomach. It was as though the arena wasn’t holding twelve thousand people, all with their eyes holding on both singers. It was as though the band had faded to the background. Mike felt tethered again, pulled back from some unknown edge by Chester’s gaze, and if he admitted it to himself, he was also hopelessly aroused by the way they were singing, lips softly touching the microphones in what he imagined to be a poor substitution for each other.

As their voices faded the magic dissipated and Mike felt sated, worn out, disheveled and exposed. Each breath felt like a hit, straight through one nostril and into his blood, insanely potent after what felt like minutes of suspended animation, of the inability to breathe even though he was certain he’d had to inhale just to sing. Each limb felt heavy, the way his body felt after a sexual climax. Another rush spiked through him as he realized this was the feeling Chester talked about, that feeling of being turned on by the crowd, the energy of the show, and the subsequent fall from that high that left him wrung out and exhausted. Mike had never experienced it on a sexual level before, and now he knew he’d be seeking that feeling with Chester every night on every stage for the rest of their career. In his mind, it was as close as he would ever get- could ever get- to showing Chester how much his presence affected him, how he lit a completely different fire in Mike’s soul. 

For the rest of the encore Mike felt as though he were watching it all happen to someone else, that closeness he’d felt with Chester minutes ago having faded into the background. He was still trying to wrap his head around his emotional orgasm as they were being led outside the venue and into their waiting vehicles.

_I don’t know what just happened… but I want it again… and we’re going home tomorrow._ MIke frowned as he slid into the van with Chester close behind him. _I need it again. I want that connection. I want him to know I’m here._ He glanced Chester’s way and the raw vulnerability he saw sent an arrow straight to his heart. Chester didn’t have to tell him what was going on inside his head, Mike felt it too. Neither of them wanted to go home tomorrow. Six long weeks stretched ahead of them, six weeks of disconnect, of desperately needed family time that somehow didn’t include each other. When their hands met in the space between them, neither knew who had initiated the gesture. 

The ride back to the hotel was completely silent, and despite the jovial moods of their bandmates in the small space between them, the elevator ride upstairs was somber for both Mike and Chester. Without words they disappeared into their own rooms to shower, Mike unlocking his side of the ever present connecting door before he made his way into the bathroom and stepped into the hot water. He was lost in his thoughts of the encore, taking longer in the shower than he usually did, and by the time he emerged into his room, a towel around his waist, Chester was already under the blankets, his glasses on the table beside the bed. 

“You feeling okay?” Mike asked, a wrinkle of concern between his brows. Usually they stayed up and talked, or ate something while writing lyrics, but it looked like Chester was finished for the night.

“Exhausted,” came Chester’s voice faintly. “I just want to go to sleep. You can stay up if you want.”

Rummaging through his suitcase for boxers and a t-shirt, Mike shook his head. “Nah, I’m tired too. Lemme brush my teeth and I’ll take care of the lights.” He stepped over to the thermostat and turned down the air before returning to the bathroom, dropping the towel into the floor and brushing his teeth in the nude, critically appraising his body in the mirror. With a sigh he realized he probably needed to start working out again, feeling slightly more motivated than he had when he’d brought it up to Chester months earlier, tugging the soft shirt over his head after he stepped into his boxers. Minty fresh, he clicked off the light and padded back into the room, his eyes sliding over Chester’s form lying under the blankets, the back of his head visible from where Mike stood. For a moment all of the evening’s emotions crashed down on him, and he felt indecision give him pause. _He’s there, in my bed, like he belongs there. If Anna knew… if Tal knew… what would they say? We aren’t doing anything wrong, but… what would Chester say if he knew how I felt about him?_

The memory of their shared moment on stage assaulted him suddenly and he remembered the way Chester had held his gaze while his lips feathered over the mic, and for a brief moment he wondered if Chester felt the same way. Almost immediately he pushed the thought into the back of his mind. _Anna. The baby. The band. Shinoda, you are a complete idiot for him, but you are not such an idiot that you’re going to screw up your life like this. Go get in the bed and go to sleep. What happened on stage was just part of the show. It meant nothing._

But as he slid into the bed, the crisp white sheets cool under his skin, he couldn’t help but ask, “Ches?” Mike’s whisper was barely audible, even in the stillness of the pitch black hotel room.

“Hmmm?” 

Chester already sounded mere seconds from sleep, and Mike felt a twinge of envy. _I shouldn’t say anything. He’s almost asleep, he’s not even thinking about it._ Something compelled him to forge on ahead, and before he could stop himself, he murmured, “what happened on stage tonight…” Suddenly his throat closed up and he couldn’t continue, and the silence between them grew heavy in the darkness, seconds ticking by slowly as neither man spoke. Finally, he both felt and heard Chester roll onto his side to face him, and warm fingers felt along Mike’s forearm until their hands clasped together. 

“It’s okay, Mikey… I feel that way too.” Chester’s whisper was so faint, Mike wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. Before he could ask, Chester’s voice came back, stronger. “It was just one of those moments, those magic moments… let’s not ruin it by trying to figure out what it meant.” 

Mike heard Chester’s yawn and then he was yawning in response, and he couldn’t help but smile softly at how their bodies reacted to each other. Such a small thing, a little thing, but it brought back that same feeling of connection from earlier. _That’s stupid, Mike. Everyone yawns when they see or hear someone else yawn, even complete strangers!_ “Okay… okay, Ches. I… I’ll miss you when we’re back in LA. We have to get together, six weeks is so long.”

There was tension in the air again as Chester answered, “it’ll be six weeks of nightmares, Mike. You know, that’s why I keep coming back, why I have to sleep here with you… you keep them away… and I don’t know why it’s only you.”

Holding his breath, Mike waited, but Chester was finished, and all he could say was, “I always sleep better with you, too, Ches.” He sighed, wanting to move closer to the warm body next to him, but holding back uncertainly. Silent for a while, he gathered up the courage to say, “I want to tell you something. Are you still awake?”

Chester inched toward Mike, closing some of the space between them before he whispered, “yeah.”

Mike tucked his arm up under his pillow and pulled Chester’s hand closer to him, but the vocalist didn’t move. Hesitating, Mike took a deep breath, Chester’s lavender body wash seeping into his lungs while he fought with himself over how much to say. Finally, he whispered, “I’ll worry about you while we’re home. I hate that I won’t be there to… be with you,” he ended lamely. He’d almost said _to keep you safe_ , but refrained. It sounded too possessive, too distrusting, too… intimate. 

There was another long pause, so long that Mike thought maybe Chester had fallen asleep, before he heard his bandmate, his best friend, whisper back unconvincingly, “I’ll be okay, Mike. You won’t have time to worry over me. You’ll have other things on your mind.” As Mike opened him mouth to protest, Chester cut him off. “I’m tired of talking, Mikey, let’s just go to sleep. One more good night of sleep, please.”

As Chester tried to pull his hand from Mike’s grip and turn away, Mike held on tightly. “I’ll always make time for you, Chester. Always.” He felt the other man’s body relax into the bed, no longer trying to turn away, and Mike smiled and squeezed his hand. It was in that position that they fell asleep, mere inches separating their bodies, hands entwined, breaths and heat shared in the space between them. 

It hadn’t needed to be said aloud, all the little things eating away at both of their minds, because they both knew where Chester’s doubts were rooted. While Chester was prepared to lose some of Mike’s time and attention, Mike was determined that it wouldn’t happen that way, even as so many things were set to change over this break. 

By the time they were together again on the next part of the tour, Mike would be a father.

**End of _Part One: MTM_**


	11. Part Two: DBS -- Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics within are from Dead by Sunrise’s Fire, in case you didn’t know. And if you don’t know, you really should go have a listen now. https://youtu.be/RHQ72-fGwiE

[April 15, 2008]

“Mike? Honey, wake up.”

Somewhere inside his mind, Anna’s voice registered in Mike’s consciousness. He knew that she had called his name, but his foggy brain couldn’t make sense of why she wanted him to wake up right then. He was comfortable, and warm, and it felt like the dead of night. There was no reason to wake up, he didn’t hear the baby crying, and he was snuggled into his favorite recliner. He even had a blanket over him. The only part of his body that wasn’t comfortable was his arm. Why did his arm feel so heavy?

With a start, Mike’s eyes flew open, resting first on Anna’s tired face, then settling fearfully on the tiny bundle in the crook of his left arm. He scanned the infant’s face anxiously, relieved to see the rise and fall of the tiny chest swaddled in a pale green blanket.

“You fell asleep, I think you’ve been down here for a while,” Anna explained softly, being careful not to wake the baby. 

“Sorry, Anna,” Mike mumbled tiredly, looking back up to offer her an apologetic smile. “He was fussy so I brought him down here so you could get some rest. I guess I was more tired than I thought.” 

Anna smiled back gently. “Thanks for letting me sleep. You wanna trade?” 

It was somewhere in the middle of a calm April night, and Mike looked over her sweet, exhausted features, shaking his head. “Why don’t you go back to bed, hon? Let me see if I can get him to lay in his crib.” She nodded and lifted the blanket off his lap as Mike scooted forward in the recliner, planting his feet firmly on the floor before carefully standing with the baby still asleep in his arms. “See? I’m getting better.” He flashed Anna a smile before heading up the stairs toward the nursery. “It’s like I was never away.”

Together they crept into the nursery, where Mike victoriously laid the baby down to sleep in the crib without so much as a whimper. Feeling proud of himself, Mike stood at the edge of the crib, looking down at his four-month old son, still feeling as though he were meeting his baby for the first time. It had been rough to go back out on tour, leaving Anna with the baby just three weeks after he’d been born, but the tour cycle had been set before they’d even known Anna was pregnant. He hadn’t had a choice, and when the time had come to go back out on the road, Mike had been ashamed to admit he had been relieved in a way. Those six weeks had been a tough break from tour life for some reason. It was hard to admit the reason was Chester.

_Oh, Chester._ Longing tugged at Mike’s heart the moment the vocalist’s name crossed his mind. With _Minutes to Midnight_ fully wrapped at this point, Mike couldn’t help the melancholy mood that settled over him when he thought of the next few months. It would be a while until they toured again. The next album was only in its infancy, and everyone’s concentration seemed to be at an all-time low, with all the new babies in the mix. All of the guys seemed anxious to be home and spend time with their new families, being good partners and learning to be fathers, and there was no time for new music. Except for Chester, who was still working on his own songs with Ryan, and Mike couldn’t help but feel jealous. Not working on music made him anxious. Not working with Chester increased that anxiety tenfold. 

As Anna’s arm slid around his waist, pulling him close to her in a gentle hug, Mike’s eyes landed on the toucan he’d painted on the mural over the baby’s bed months ago. Chester’s toucan, placed there on the night that Talinda had all but given her stamp of approval to his relationship with Chester. _What relationship. Why are you even still thinking about this?_

That toucan held Mike’s gaze, its beady black eye looking out over the nursery, keeping watch over his precious baby boy. Despite the presence of all the other animals in the mural, something about the toucan seemed almost human to Mike. Something about the way he’d painted the bird, its rainbow beak and joyful eyes, made him think of Chester. Chester’s eyes, the way they had looked as he’d held Mike’s son for the first time.

*

_“Hey.” Mike answered the phone quietly as he stepped out into the hallway, careful not to disturb Anna or his newborn son sleeping swaddled inside the tiny crib at his mother’s side._

_“How is everything?”_

_Chester’s voice floated down the line and Mike smiled tiredly even as his heart swelled with pride. “He’s here, Ches, and he’s beautiful. You have to come and see him.”_

_Not even half an hour had passed before Mike awkwardly managed to place his hours old son in Chester’s beautifully tattooed arms, the light blue blanket draped in soft folds, creating a nest for the baby. Hovering close to his best friend and his newborn, Mike whispered softly and with love evident in his voice, “Ches… meet Otis Akio Shinoda.”_

_Chester moved his hand to stroke a fingertip lightly down the baby’s tender cheek, mesmerized as Otis opened his eyes and looked up, his dark eyes hazy and unfocused. They were Mike’s eyes, and Chester swallowed thickly, instantly in love with his bandmate’s son. As he stared down at the tiny newborn, one of Mike’s fingers stroked gently over the blue knit beanie covering the sprinkling of fine, dark hair on Otis’ crown. Chester looked up just as Mike’s finger trailed over his own hand, and their eyes locked just inches from each other._

*

Mike remembered how dark Chester’s eyes had been that afternoon in the hospital, as dark as the toucan’s eye on the wall, looking deep within him, and in spite of what he’d just been through with Anna, the surreal experience of watching his wife struggle and persevere and give life to his son, he still felt that familiar pull toward Chester. He’d taken a step back to clear his head and that moment dissipated, leaving Mike to wonder if he had only imagined it.

_We’ve been home a week and I already miss him._ Mike shook his head and leaned into Anna, his lips close to her ear. “Let’s go back to bed,” he whispered, his lips moving softly over her skin. He felt her lean her weight back into him, and a slow warmth trickled through his body as he breathed in her citrus shampoo. In that moment, everything in Mike’s world felt secure, loving, comforting, warm. He wanted to lay next to his wife and sleep with her wrapped in his arms. The love and admiration he felt for her after the past four months was overwhelming. 

_”You’ll never understand how much you can love your wife until the moment she brings your child into the world.”_

Whether he was physically there are not, Chester was always there, in Mike’s thoughts, his memories, his imagination. Those words, spoken months ago in a hotel room on the other side of the world, came back to Mike often. They reminded him, when he was deep in thoughts of the vocalist, what a gift Anna was in his life. He wanted to be a better man for her, and for Otis. 

As he pulled Anna back to their bedroom with him he shoved thoughts of Chester away. Just as he’d wanted, he pulled her in tight against his chest, snuggling against the swell of her backside and burying his face in her hair. If he were not a sleep deprived new father, he might have found it harder to fall asleep without Chester softly snoring next to him. But at three in the morning, with Anna in his arms, he dropped off to sleep quickly, his body giving in to the exhaustion of waking up every few hours at night.

**********

“Morning, hon.” Mike slid behind Anna as she stood at the bar, pouring water over coffee grounds and filling the air with the rich aroma of their favorite brew. “Otis still sleeping?”

A light chuckle met his ears as he kissed Anna’s neck softly. “I just laid him back down after his last feeding. Mike, it’s almost nine o’clock.”

“No, really? I didn’t mean to sleep that long, I meant to get up and do his eight a.m. for you. Wow, I am just not pulling my weight around here, am I?” 

Mike was trying to joke to take the shame out of his words, and Anna knew better. “It’s okay… I mean, we managed without you for almost four months.” Even though she was trying to make him feel better, the words she chose did not come across at she intended.

The sting of shame and regret hit Mike full force. All of his fears of not being around for the baby and for Anna were realized as his wife brushed his efforts off with carelessly chosen words. His head dropped into her shoulder and his voice was strained as he mumbled, “right. I know you can do it without me. But I’m trying, Anna, to do more while I can.”

Immediately Anna swung around to face him, her hands reaching to cup his face. “Oh, Mike, that didn’t come out the way I wanted. I’m sorry, honey, I know you hated being away. That was an awful thing to say.”

“It’s how you feel, though, I deserved that. But I’m going to be home a lot the next year or so, we’ve just gotten started on the new album. I mean, not really, everyone is so happy to be home, and Brad’s with Jonah and Dave’s with Regan- and Linsey’s pregnant again-”

“What? Really? Already?” Shock rolled over Anna’s face, causing Mike to grin.

“Yeah, she’s due in December. Dave told us the last day of tour.” 

“Wow,” Anna breathed. “I mean… Regan just turned a year old!”

Mike nodded. “It’s crazy, I don’t think I’d want mine that close together.” Anna nodded her agreement as Mike continued. “I want to be a good father, Anna. I want to be here. And you know that I _have_ to work too, or I will go insane. You just have to tell me if I’m working too much. You have to promise you won’t let my work make you resent me. You just have to let me know if I’m getting my priorities turned around, and I promise you I’ll fix it. You know how I am. I get really focused on one thing and it’s hard to let that go. Just pull me back in when I get too far away from you, okay?”

Leaning in for a quick kiss, Anna nodded. “I’ll pull you back in. I promise you.” She turned back to the coffee and Mike let her go, satisfied that things had been made right between them.

He reached for the newspaper and his phone vibrated on the bar, Chester’s name splashed across his screen. A wide smile broke out on his face as he answered the call. Before he could even say hello, he could hear the vocalist’s chatter. 

“Hey! I wanted to know if you were free this afternoon! I’ve got these Dead By Sunrise tracks I want you to hear, can I bring it over to your place? Your system is so much better than mine. I really want your opinion, Mike, I think this might be it. I mean, I think it might be ready to go, and then we’ll be wanting to do some shows and stuff, I know you guys said that would be fine, and we really aren’t working on our next record yet-”

Giggling at Chester’s rapid-fire enthusiasm, Mike rubbed his eyes with his fist and sat down at the bar. “Ches. Slow down. It’s too early for all these words. Of course you can bring it over today, I can’t wait to hear it. We can talk about the rest later, okay?” He reached for the coffee cup Anna sat in front of him and smiled up at her before taking a sip. It was scalding hot and perfect.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll head over after lunch. Gotta get some snuggles in with my boy Otis too.” 

Chester’s voice was light and excited, and Mike couldn’t help but grin. “Maybe he’ll be awake while you’re here. You won’t believe how much hair he has now. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Mike sat his phone down and took another sip of his coffee as Anna casually asked, “Chester’s coming by? Are you guys going to be up in the studio?” She busied herself with mixing waffle batter, not looking in Mike’s direction, the conversation they’d just had about work and family fresh on both their minds.

“Yeah, he’s bringing me some of his solo album tracks to listen to. Give my opinion to, I guess.” Mike glanced at his wife and knew that she was disappointed they wouldn’t be spending the day together, though she’d never say it out loud. “I don’t think it will take long, he didn’t say he was bringing the whole album, just some tracks,” he clarified.

Pouring waffle batter into the waffle maker, Anna kept her face turned away from Mike as she answered, “oh, I know how time in the studio goes with you two, Mike. You guys will be up there all afternoon.”

“I promise we won’t. Just long enough for me to listen and give him some feedback, I promise. Hey, how about I make dinner tonight?” he offered, hoping to bring a smile to Anna’s face. “I’ll make those noodles you love.” 

It was a winning statement. Anna turned to face Mike, anticipation shining in her eyes. “You sure you’ll have time? You can’t tease me with your homemade noodles, Mike, and then not deliver.” 

With a devilish glint in his eyes, Mike stood up and rounded the bar, grabbing his wife by the hips and pressing her against the side of the counter as he leaned into her. “Oh, I’ll deliver on those noodles, don’t you worry. And something else, as well,” he husked into her ear, delighted to feel the tremble in her body as he held her. “If you’re ready, of course,” he amended. They hadn’t had sex since Otis had been born, and Mike wasn’t sure she was even thinking about it yet, though he was about to lose his mind with desire since he’d been back home. He kissed his way gently along her neck before he pulled back to look at her, the question in his statement unanswered. 

Anna’s hands slid down his back and grabbed two handfuls of his ass, smirking as she did so. “I think I’m ready now,” she said, squeezing his backside in confirmation.

“Ah, you just put waffles in,” Mike sighed as he went to kiss her lips, tasting the coffee on her tongue as she parted his lips possessively. He couldn’t help but giggle into her mouth, she was being more assertive than usual, and he was about to say fuck it and pull the plug on the waffle maker. 

“I don’t care about the waffles,” she breathed as he pulled away. “I just put the baby down, we’ve got a good two hours before he wakes up again. Let’s go now, I’m ready.”

Mike reached over and unplugged the waffle maker before following Anna hastily up the stairs. They had months to make up for in less than two hours.

********** 

“Why don’t you go get me a baby, Shinoda? I didn’t come all the way over here to see you.” Chester peered at Mike over the top of his glasses, a stern look on his face. It was the same stare a librarian would give if the noise level in the library were unacceptable. Mike rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Fine, I’ll go get him. But if he starts crying, it’s all you, Ches. Don’t you know you’re never supposed to bother a sleeping baby?”

“Yeah, whatever. Babies love me. Go get him.” Chester crossed his ankle over his knee and sat back expectantly. 

As quietly as he could manage, Mike slipped into the nursery. The toucan smiled encouragingly at him, and Mike smiled back before sliding his hands under the baby’s head and bottom, lifting him carefully from the crib while holding his breath. He felt Otis’ slight weight against his chest and smiled when he didn’t wake up. He _was_ getting better at all this baby stuff. 

Mike came back into the studio with Otis in his arms, brown eyes sparkling with happiness as he settled into the chair behind his computer. Instantly Chester was at his side, watching as Mike carefully held his infant in the crook of his left arm and clicked buttons with his right hand.

“Let me take him while you get it started,” Chester suggested, his hands reaching for Otis. They transferred the baby easily and Chester settled down on the sofa, cradling Mike’s son to his chest and breathing in the fresh powdery scent. “I _love_ babies! Tyler is already so big, I forget how tiny babies are.”

Mike nodded absently as he adjusted the volume of his speakers down low, cognizant of the delicate ears of his son. 

“Look at him. He’s just beautiful, Mikey.” There was some delicate undertone in Chester’s voice that caused Mike’s heart to flutter as he continued, “I really think he looks more like you.”

There it was, that weight again in the air, that heaviness Mike associated with all the unspoken emotions he felt toward Chester. Those moments seemed to hit him more often when the two of them were together in recent months, despite Mike’s awareness and desire to put away those feelings. He turned in his chair as he pressed play on Chester’s track, his gaze resting on the vision of Chester holding Otis as though they belonged to each other. “Nah, his beauty is all Anna. He’ll be lucky to take after her instead of me.”

When Chester lifted his eyes to meet Mike’s gaze, it was easy to read the disagreement in his thoughts. “You’re wrong, of course. I mean, I know I’m the one who’s usually wrong, but in this case, all of the beauty here is one hundred percent Mike Shinoda.” 

Just as Mike was about to open his mouth to disagree again, Chester’s voice drifted through the speakers, just loud enough for him to hear. 

_No need to hear your voice_  
_or see your face_  
_to know that you are with me_  
_no need to kiss your lips_  
_or hold your hand_  
_to know that you can feel me_

_____ _

Mike turned his attention back to his computer monitor, cocking his head to the side as the lyrics caught his attention. He knew Chester had spent years writing these songs, that they started with his break up with Sam and his relationship with Talinda, but out of the gate this song was relatable in a different way. It was giving words to the way Mike thought of Chester- Chester always in his thoughts, always with him. He felt a hot flush sweep over his body and perspiration break out across his forehead as he listened. 

____

“This just isn’t doing it justice for me, Ches. Do you mind if I put my headphones on instead so I can turn it up?” Reaching for the headphones, Mike’s hand paused before plugging them in, waiting for Chester’s approval.

____

_No need to get locked up inside the past  
I know that isn’t changing_

____

Nodding, Chester added, “go ahead,” and Mike immersed himself into the song, clicking the track back to the beginning and turning up the volume, letting Chester’s voice penetrate his brain. 

____

There were four finished tracks that Chester had brought with him, and Mike listened with his head in his hands, elbows on his desk, eyes closed, allowing the lyrics to paint pictures behind his eyelids. It wasn’t like listening to a Linkin Park track, and Mike knew that was the point. Even as the feeling of being left out of a significant part of Chester’s life was sinking into him, the pride Mike felt listening to these tracks was swelling inside him. There were so many untapped emotions inside Chester, things that he wanted to talk about, sing about, that Mike had shut down because it ‘didn’t sound like a Linkin Park song.’ What _was_ a Linkin Park song, anyway? After the last album, did they really have one defining sound? Weren’t they trying to get away from the stereotypes? Why hadn’t he encouraged Chester to write these songs with him? 

____

Chester had done a great job with Ryan and Amir, he could admit that even through the jealousy. Sliding the headphones off, he swiveled around in the chair and looked at Chester, who had leaned his head back on the back of the sofa, completely at ease as Otis slept cuddled next to him. For a few moments he allowed himself to examine Chester’s neck, the gentle curve that ended in the sharp lines of his jaw, the point of his chin, the dark lashes falling on his cheeks, and he almost didn’t want to break the silence. He wanted to sit and watch the rise and fall of the breaths Chester was taking as he relaxed, the matching breaths of his son, and slip the headphones back on to listen to that first track repeatedly. 

____

Instead, he cleared his throat and watched as Chester’s eyes popped open.

____

“Well?” Chester bit down on his lip and he lifted his head from the back of the sofa and looked at Mike. There was a tiny crease of worry between his eyes, as though he expected Mike to hate his work.

____

“You sound amazing on it, Chester. I’m so proud of you.” It was simple and heartfelt, and Mike watched the worry fade from Chester’s expression as a huge smile took its place.

____

“God, I’m so _stoked_ that you like it! If it gets past the great Mike Shinoda, then I know it’s good!”

____

Mike scoffed at the vocalist’s statement. “Oh, c’mon, Ches, it’s not like I’m the end all be all of what’s good in music.” Even as he rolled his eyes at Chester, Mike’s heart was basking in the glow of the compliment. Being together was so uplifting. “I really love the first track. I think that’s my favorite of the four so far.”

____

Chester’s smile fell into contemplation, and he pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth again as he looked at Mike. “Me too. I think it’s my favorite one, too… except, of course, the one I wrote for Tal.”

____

There was a flash of hope in Mike’s eyes as a thought occurred to him. Chester was separating the first track from _Give Me Your Name_ by saying it wasn’t written for Talinda. _Who was it written for then, Ches? I want to ask you so badly._

____

They looked at each other silently, and the question was on the tip of Mike’s tongue when Otis stirred, his tiny face scrunching into a pinched look of intense baby anger before he let out a choked cry. 

____

“Must be dinner time,” Chester said, chuckling as he stood up and made for the studio door. “Guess I’ll go find Anna.”

____

“Yeah… yeah, okay, I’ll be down in a minute. Just let me shut everything down.” 

____

Chester disappeared downstairs and Mike sat at the computer station, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. Before he could talk himself out of it, he copied the first of Chester’s tracks, sliding the file into a password protected folder before shutting down the computer. He knew he’d come back to it later that evening, once Anna and Otis were asleep, to lose himself in imagining those words had been written for him.

____


	12. Part Two: DBS — Into You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I’m fudging a bit on the real life event in this chapter. There was a DBS performance on May 10, 2008, but it did not include Into You as that was completed later. You’re reading fiction anyway, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.

[May 10, 2008]

Brad wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up agreeing to go to Vegas with Mike. He wasn’t the least bit interested in Chester’s side project, despite the lip service he’d given the subject. ‘Oh, it’s great you’ve got that, Chester; the songs are great, Chester; so proud of you, Chester.’ Despite all of the nodding along he’d done as Mike gushed over and encouraged their lead vocalist.

Chester. Chester. Chester. Brad wasn’t jealous, not at all.

With bitter thoughts swirling in his head, Brad scowled in Mike’s direction as he stood looking at pictures of intricate tattoos that had been completed over the thirteen year history of Club Tattoo. He glanced briefly over the photographs and the furrow between his eyes deepened, if that were possible. If he were being perfectly honest with himself, Brad didn’t care what Chester was doing in his free time. Chester being away meant Mike had more free time, time with his family and with other people he cared about. People like Brad. Unless he was dragging him off to Dead By Sunrise concerts, which Brad grudgingly supposed was still classified as time they were spending together. 

It wasn’t even a real concert, Brad thought acidly. Six songs wasn’t a concert. It was barely an opener. 

“I don’t get it. Why anyone feels the need to deface their body with this stuff, that is.” He pointed to a particularly graphic depiction of something that looked like a bloody serpent as he spoke.

From under the bill of his hat, Mike glanced at the look of disdain on Brad’s face while they stood there, raising his eyebrows in silent question. “It’s not for everyone,” he agreed diplomatically. “Even if it is a form of art, I don’t think I’d ever have one. I can’t see being happy with the same thing for the rest of my life. I’d be wanting to change it all the time. A new canvas, so to speak. To have something permanent… it would have to be extremely meaningful.”

They stood there a few more minutes before Brad mused, “never being satisfied with what you’ve got… maybe that’s why Chester’s always going under the gun.”

Despite Brad’s negative words about Chester, Mike chose not to respond. He simply continued to look over the artwork in front of him as they waited for the doors to open. 

“He could have at least gotten us VIP passes so we didn’t have to wait out here,” Brad grumbled.

Mike sighed. “I don’t mind waiting. I wish you were in a better mood, though. You could have said no if you didn’t want to come, Brad. I could have done this on my own.” He adjusted his hat down lower, trying to be inconspicuous, not bothering to glance the guitarist’s way as he admonished him.

Even though he wouldn’t admit it to him, Brad knew that he would have gone out of the country on a whim just to spend the time with Mike. He missed Mike, the time they used to spend together. It wasn’t just the addition of children to their lives that had cut down on their time together, but the one great obstacle in his relationship with Mike— Chester. 

Linkin Park was important to him, and Brad was grateful daily for the opportunity to be creative and make music with his friends. The band scratched the itch he had that wasn’t part of his logical, right-brained mind, full of details and legalese, and he couldn’t imagine his life without it now; but ever since Chester had come along so many years ago, Brad had been relegated to second place in Mike’s life, and he was still bitter about being replaced. He had never dreamed back in high school that they would be thirty and still friends.

Brad had been convinced that after high school they would go their separate ways and Mike would always just be that friend he messed around with back when he was still learning about himself. The one that got away, even, once Brad had realized just how much he really did care about Mike after he broke things off. Never in his wildest dreams did he think they’d make it big in the same band, constantly together for however long they could stay relevant enough to ride the wave of Linkin Park. 

He knew he wasn’t being the best concert companion at the moment, but it was so hard not to feel the tug of jealousy at his heart. Every time he looked at the anticipation shining in Mike’s eyes he felt a little pang of regret in his stomach. Those blissful expressions were reserved for Chester now, and Brad couldn’t help but wish that Mike still looked at him with that adoration. Even when they worked together on production or lyrics, the praise Brad received from the emcee seemed to his ears less enthusiastic than what was given to Chester. It was petty, and he knew he’d been overreacting since day one, but he couldn’t help himself. Chester had come along when Brad was still in love with Mike, and he had changed everything. 

When it came down to the details, Brad was the only member of Linkin Park that saw, _really saw_ , how Mike looked at Chester. He saw through the casual brotherhood and closeness and identified Mike’s feelings for what they were. It was a burden he kept close, one that he didn’t share with the rest of the guys for fear of revealing too much about their past. When he allowed himself to think about it, the jealousy weighed him down, and tonight was one of those times. He needed to shake it off and stop being such a prick, but the love he saw in Mike’s eyes every time he said Chester’s name was making it hard.

As he was lost in thought, the crowd waiting for entrance into the celebration show for Club Tattoo’s anniversary had pushed forward, leaving Mike and Brad behind. Mike took a step forward, and immediately Brad reached out and placed his hand on Mike’s forearm. “Wait. I don’t want to be all squashed up in the front.” Under his breath he mumbled, “I still don’t see why we have to be here anyway.” 

Shrugging him off, Mike moved with the throng of young people crowding into the doors. “It’s the first time they’re doing a live show, Brad, I… I couldn’t miss it. He’s been so excited about it.” Mike fidgeted nervously with his shirt, smoothing the front down over his stomach for at least the third time since they’d arrived. The venue was small, and he felt tragically out of place and too old for the crowd he was standing in, teenage girls in skimpy clothing pressing forward all around them. Inside they somehow found themselves closer to the stage than Mike had thought would be possible, given the number of people who had entered before them.

“We don’t have to be up close, you know. He knows we’re coming,” Brad said, squinting his eyes as he looked toward the stage. “It’s going to get hot in here, in the middle. Let’s move to the side.”

“The side? Delson, it’s a concert, you can’t stand on the side.” Mike looked scandalized at the thought. “You know the best place to be is the middle. I want to be able to really hear what’s happening.”

“Mmmm-hmmm, _that’s_ why we’re up here in the middle.” Giving Mike a sideways glance, Brad fixed his eyes up on the stage. There was a huge Julien-K banner above the drum set and the whole thing looked foreign to Brad’s eyes. It would be strange to see Chester singing surrounded by people that were not Linkin Park. Their band had been going strong almost ten years now, and Chester was as much a part of Brad’s life as Mike was at this point. 

While Mike was checking out the stage, Brad stole another look at the emcee, noting the crease between his eyes and the flush of his skin. Mike was anxious, Brad realized, and he also realized that it bothered him more than he wanted to admit that Mike had insisted on dragging him out to this little concert. Inside his head, Brad rolled his eyes. He couldn’t understand why Chester had wanted to go from an arena of thousands, screaming his name, to this tiny theater with a few hundred people crammed inside. They’d all worked so hard for what they’d achieved at this point- why go backwards, just for the sake of doing it on your own?

But where Brad couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening with Chester, Mike understood him perfectly. At least he thought that he did. He understood that drive to create, that need to constantly be working, and he understood the idea of going out, away from the band, for some air. After all, Fort Minor had been that venture for him a few years back. It was his way to prove that he wasn’t just one of six guys in a band, but that he had some talent on his own. It was his way out of Chester’s shadow. He knew what it felt like to not know if any of his success was due to him, or if it was just part of the collective machine that was their band. What he couldn’t understand was how Chester didn’t realize that he was the lynchpin in the whole of Linkin Park. There was no Linkin Park without his voice.

They hadn’t been waiting long when Mike felt his pulse quicken, catching the sight of Chester coming out on the small stage. It was strange to see Chester from this vantage point, having usually only viewed him from the side or the back when they were on stage together. The black skinny jeans, the laced-up combat boots, the white t-shirt with the collar cut out… all of those were variations of things Mike had seen on Chester before. His hair was longer than it had been on their last tour, a little bit curly again, but more intriguing than that, what had caught his attention at that moment, was the thick eyeliner around the vocalist’s eyes, the seductive smokiness that he had never seen before… and his black fingernails…

 _Who painted his nails? I wasn’t here to do it… so who did?_ The thought hit him suddenly and Mike raked his eyes over the stage in search of an answer, sizing up each member of the band before he landed on Ryan. Ryan’s nails were black as well. Ryan’s eyes were heavily ringed in black eyeliner. Ryan was smiling at Chester on stage the way Mike smiled at Chester on stage. _Ryan. Ryan did it. I know it._

Mike wasn’t expecting to feel the jealousy wash over his body so intensely as he watched Ryan next to Chester. Chester was _his_. When he sat down to write lyrics, he wrote specific words, created certain melodies, with Chester’s voice in mind. Even though it was not new information, it struck him suddenly that Chester had written all the lyrics he was about hear on his own, without his help, and the guys in Julien-K had provided everything else Chester needed. It felt to Mike as though Chester had left him, didn’t even need him anymore, and Mike’s stomach ached painfully. Deep down he knew it wasn’t true, but it didn’t help to shake the worry or the jealousy. _Is this how Ches felt when I was doing Fort Minor? Did he feel like I’d abandoned him? God, I hope not. I wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone._

When Mike glanced over at Brad, he also seemed to be feeling a bit unsettled, if the look on his face was any indication. Mike felt the same nagging concern he’d felt ever since Chester joined the band- what was Linkin Park if not Chester Bennington? The band had gone nowhere before Chester had come along, and Mike was certain it would go nowhere if he left. _But he can’t leave us. He’s got Linkin Park tattooed across his back. That’s commitment, right there._

 _Chester wouldn’t… would he?_ Mike looked at Ryan again, who was shirtless on stage with his guitar, at his tattoos and painted nails, and a different sort of jealousy ran through him. Not the professional kind, but the personal kind. The sort of jealousy that occurs when your significant other is flirting with someone else right under your nose.

Commitment. Loyalty. Qualities Mike had never questioned in his best friend when it came to the band. There was just something about the way Chester looked up there on stage with Ryan that cut to his heart. Maybe it was the way Ryan looked at Chester. Maybe it was the way Chester’s face looked right now, immersed in the first song of the set, his eyes half closed. He hadn’t found Mike in the crowd yet, but he really hadn’t been looking either. 

_Brad was right. It is hot in here._ Mike watched as Chester tugged at his shirt but didn’t take it off. He gave him all of one more song before he would be shirtless. The sweat was already causing the thin material to cling to his chest, and it wouldn’t take much more exertion for the vocalist to be drenched and irritable enough to toss it away. It was easy to get caught up in the energy of the set, listening to Chester scream his way through a song Mike recognized from bits Chester had brought to him for approval.

It turned out that Mike was wrong, and they were on the fourth song of the mini set, Chester’s shirt still clinging, when his eyes found Mike’s in the crowd, immediately registering the emcee’s presence. Mike grinned back at him as the corners of Chester’s eyes crinkled in a smile that didn’t reach his lips, but caused Mike’s heart to jump just the same. He heard the beginning of a song he didn’t recognize, and watched as Chester closed his eyes for a moment, singing through the first verse.

The room felt smaller and warmer as Mike watched, and listened, absorbing new lyrics and the sound of Chester’s voice, still the most incredible voice in music according to Mike, ten years later. Wrapped up in trying to decipher the lyrics, it was the moment Chester chose to open his eyes, to stare down to Mike, that made him breathless.

_You say just look how far you’ve come_  
_Despite all the things you’ve done_  
_You’ll always be the one to catch me_  
_When I fall_  
_Into you_

After that moment, when Chester broke their eye contact and looked away, Mike didn’t hear another word. His mind was too lost in thought, too anxious to get Chester off that stage, too desperate to claim him. He didn’t know if he could handle watching Chester sing with anyone else anymore. Maybe it had been a mistake to come. 

When the six songs were over Mike pulled Brad along by the hand to the door that lead to the hallway that would take them to Chester. They were past security with a check of their ID’s, and Mike easily found the room in which Chester had told him they would meet. 

They were waiting on the couch in the small dressing room backstage when Mike’s eyes landed on a file folder on the table in front of him. Chester’s name was on the tab, and without even a second of consideration, the folder was in Mike’s hands and he had it opened. 

Inside were several glossy eight by ten black and white photographs, presumably photo proofs, of Chester with Ryan and Amir. Mike turned through them slowly, not really impressed by any of the photography, which showed the members of Dead By Sunrise in an alley, a doorway, on office furniture. It was boring and lackluster to Mike, until he turned to the very last proof and his hand froze on the corner of the previous photo. 

Staring at him from the center of the picture was _his_ vocalist, his Chester, sandwiched between Ryan and Amir on the bare mattress of an iron bed. Mike’s felt uneasy as he looked at Chester, so delicate next to Ryan. Where Chester’s dark eyes were devoid of the eyeliner, Ryan’s were ringed heavily in the stuff, and to Mike it appeared dangerous, not alluring the way it appeared on Chester. He took in the sight of Ryan’s black nails, the chain around his neck, his black hair and domineering black eyes. What little he knew of Ryan told him that this was all just appearances, promotion for the sound of the band and not really a reflection of who he was or how he treated Chester, but Mike still found that he was holding his breath as he looked over the photo. How Ryan’s shoulder touched Chester’s, how he seemed to lean toward his best friend, possessive… controlling… Mike followed the laces up Chester’s boot, his eye skidding over to the black plugs in his ears, then over to Ryan again, lingering over the tattoos visible… 

He slammed the folder shut and then down on to the table, irritable as he waited for Chester to appear in the dressing room. He wanted to tell Chester that touring with Ryan was a mistake, the panic rising in his chest as he wondered where the vocalist would sleep at night. Would he stumble into Ryan’s room, would they stay up talking and laughing? 

Before he could get too wrapped up in his misery, Chester was bursting through the door, his eyes darting directly to Mike and his smile wide. That was all it took to lift Mike’s mood, and he met Chester halfway through the room in a big bear hug. 

“You were great, Ches!” he exclaimed, pride in his voice, while squeezing the sweaty vocalist tightly. 

Chester laughed as he hugged Mike back, his face dripping sweat that didn’t seem to phase the emcee in the least bit. “Fuck, that was awesome! It’s been years since I’ve sung in a place this size! It’s a totally different vibe, man!” 

Mike nodded enthusiastically, still grinning ear to ear as he released his grip and stepped back, admiring the way Chester’s makeup was smudged around his eyes. Chester was rubbing a towel over his hair and face when Mike’s gaze landed on Ryan, who already had a beer in his hand. A bit of annoyance dampened the cheerful mood that had taken over when Chester returned. _I can’t believe they have alcohol in here. They know better than to have that around Chester._

He watched the other members of the band open their own bottles and clink them together in celebration. It did not escape him that Chester had one eye on the beer as he tossed his towel away. In a matter of seconds Mike had picked up a bottle of water and slid it into Chester’s hand, who looked at Mike with a mixture of gratefulness and annoyance on his face. 

While everyone, including Brad, chatted about the new songs and when the album would be out, Mike watched Chester carefully. He could see the vocalist was struggling with the desire to have a drink and the reality that he shouldn’t. Picking up his own bottle of water, Mike sat on the arm of the couch a looked at Chester, wanting to get his mind off the beer he shouldn’t have. 

“You really think it will be next year before you get the album out, Ches? Those songs seem ready to go,” Mike started, hoping to steer his mind in a different direction. 

“Probably. I mean, we’ve still got some to finish, and then there’s all the artwork and the promos… and I’m not really super anxious to get it done, it’s just nice to have something else to work on, you know? While we’re… on a break.” 

Their eyes met and Mike wanted to remind him that they could work on the next album any time Chester wanted to get back into it. They had a few ideas, some bits recorded, some lyrics, but nothing too serious. Something held him back from mentioning the next album, though. He wanted Chester to be able to see this project through to completion, he’d been working on it for so long… 2005 seemed like an awfully long time ago. So instead of jumping in to thoughts of Linkin Park, he went another route. He had different questions burning a hole in his brain. 

Reaching out, he caught Chester’s hand and flipped his nails up to the ceiling. “I see you found someone else to take care of this for you,” he said, careful to keep his voice from betraying his emotions. 

Chester looked at him for a moment before he said, “I borrowed it from Ryan… but I did it myself. Can’t you see? My left hand looks like shit, Mikey.” 

He was right. Now that he was close to his fingers, Chester’s left hand didn’t look so great- the edges weren’t clean and neat the way they were when Mike painted his nails. Breathing a little sigh of relief, Mike smiled. “Good to know you haven’t replaced me at everything,” he teased, letting the poorly painted hand drop back to Chester’s side. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chester asked before he took another quick sip of water. “I haven’t… why would you say that?” 

Mike shrugged and pointed to the folder on the table. “These promo pics of you guys… the one of you in bed… whose idea was that?” he asked in a rush, as casually as he could manage. 

It was Ryan who answered, coming up behind Chester and smirking at Mike. “That was all Chester,” he said, his eyes sliding hungrily over Chester’s backside. The guitarist wasn’t even trying to hide the lust in his gaze, and Mike felt his blood pressure rise as Ryan looked the vocalist up and down as though he were something to eat, before dropping a hand possessively on Chester’s shoulder and meeting Mike’s frustrated eyes. 

It felt like he was being challenged, but Mike wasn’t about to take the bait. As he cast around in his brain for some witty comeback, Chester stepped away from Ryan’s hand and looked at Mike uncertainly. “I’m going to step outside for a minute, why don’t you and Brad come with me?” he said, looking anxiously between Mike and Ryan. 

There was a clear taunt in Ryan’s eyes as he stared at Mike, daring him to say something, but Mike held back. He was better than that. “Sure, Ches… maybe you should just walk us out.” Meeting Ryan’s gaze straight on, he said, “great show, man. Congrats.” 

Ryan tipped his beer in Mike’s direction and smiled before shifting his gaze to Chester. “We’ve got a great singer. Couldn’t do it without him.” 

Before he could say anything else, Chester’s hand was on his back, almost pushing him toward the door. He wanted to turn around and tell Ryan to back the fuck off, that Chester was _his_ singer, but he didn’t get the chance. Chester had him out the back door of the theater, Brad tagging along behind, preventing him from saying anything stupid. 

They stopped in the back parking lot and Chester pulled Mike in close to him for another hug, this one longer than when he’d come off stage. “I’m so glad you came, Mike,” he whispered before he remembered. “And you, Brad, thanks for your support. It means so much to me.” 

With an offhand wave, Brad nodded. “Proud of you, Chester. I know this means a lot to you. I hope you guys get the album finished soon.” 

Without a second thought, Mike pressed a quick kiss to the vocalist’s temple before releasing him and letting out a huge sigh. “I think we’re gonna take off, Ches. Let you enjoy your friends here and catch up a bit.” Chester bit down on his bottom lip and looked as though he wanted to protest, but Mike shook his head when he saw the look on Chester’s face. “Really. I know you haven’t seen some of these guys in a while. We’re gonna walk back to the hotel, we’ll catch up with you later, ok?” 

Chester looked between Brad and Mike before he nodded. “Okay. Okay… I’ll check in with you later,” he added. “Thanks again for making it out here to see this. I know it wasn’t much, but-” 

“It was great, Ches,” Mike interrupted firmly. “Text me later, I’ll leave my phone on. Let me know you got back safely, okay?” 

Chester nodded, his worried gaze on Mike as Brad hugged him quickly. “I’ll let you know,” he promised. 

Mike didn’t have to say, _no drinking._ Chester heard the message loud and clear. He watched Chester slip inside the back door and he turned on his heel, setting off in the direction of the hotel they were staying at for the night. Brad walked alongside him in silence for a block before he gathered the courage to speak. 

“You doing okay?” he finally asked, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He glanced Mike’s way and saw his bandmate simply shrug. 

“Fine,” Mike replied sullenly, but not offering any thoughts past that. 

They walked in silence for another minute before Brad finally said, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, but it seemed like there was a bit of a power struggle going on between you and Ryan.” Brad kept his eyes on the pavement in front of them, but he was burning with the desire to look at Mike. He was curious about the dynamic he’d felt back in the dressing room. 

Mike finally looked up, tilting his head back and looking up at the evening sky, at the stars sprinkled across the blackness. He wasn’t sure how to say what he was feeling to Brad. He finally settled on mumbling, “I just don’t want Chester to enjoy Dead By Sunrise more than Linkin Park. I don’t know what I’d do if he decided he was finished with the band.” 

There was a quality to Mike’s voice, longing mixed with fear, that made Brad’s heart ache. Not because he thought Chester would abandon them, but because Mike did. Brad knew from watching them for the better part of a decade that Mike and Chester were no longer a separate entity. Chester might be off spreading his metaphorical wings at the moment, but he would always land where Mike was waiting for him. Brad was as certain of that as he was the fact that the sky rose in the east and set in the west. It was fact, and it was hard for him to believe that Mike could have any doubts about their vocalist. He only had to look as far as the admiration in Chester’s eyes to know for certain. 

“Oh, Mike,” Brad sighed, trying hard to conceal the envy in his voice. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. If there is one thing you can always count on, it’s that Chester will always come back to you.” 


	13. Part Two: DBS -- After Dark

[July 27, 2009]

A week after their successful festival set in Turkey, Linkin Park was back in LA attempting a band meeting without Chester, and Brad wasn’t having it. Band meetings, band decisions, could only happen if all six members were present. More than a decade in, and Mike and Chester were trying to change the rules on him. 

“All I’m saying is, I think it’s time to get serious about this album. We’ve got just over a year until it needs to be completely finished, Mike. Songs. Artwork. There’s decisions that will need to be made as we get closer to deadline. It’s hard to do that shit when he can’t even show up to meetings!” Brad reached to rub his hand over his goatee before he remembered he’d shaved it off before they played at Rock’n Coke, surprising everyone when he cut his hair down from overgrown poodle to an acceptable human shape. He still wasn’t used to the smooth skin under his hand, and he was ready to abandon the idea of being clean shaven. 

Mike closed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands as Brad fumed from his seat on the couch. “What do you want me to say to him, Brad? I can’t tell him he can’t go.” He’d already battled this same argument within himself when Chester first told him about the upcoming Dead By Sunrise touring dates. Everything Brad was saying were things Mike had already questioned, and he was too tired to rehash all of it again. 

“Why not? You’re the only person he listens to. You need him here to finish these lyrics. We’re stuck until the two of you decide what it is we’re even doing with this album. Hell, I don’t understand half of what you just played for me.” Brad’s eyebrows were knitted together in consternation and he flipped both hands up into the hair, waving them around at Mike’s electronics with irritated emphasis. 

“I just… he wants to do this, and he and I have talked it all through. They’re just going to do little bits at a time. The longest he’ll be gone is a month during October, and we can work instrumentals without him. You just need to relax. We’ll get a lot of the vocals done in that week when he returns in August, before he leaves out in October. We’re going to work on lyrics over the phone and email. It’s not ideal but it will be fine. He’s dedicated to it, I’m dedicated to making it work. _I_ understand what we’re trying to do. There’s plenty of time left to get it all completed.”

Suddenly trying to remember the band rules of disagreement, and hoping to get through to the emcee, Brad switched tone and tactic. “I _feel_ like you’re not listening to me, Mike. This schedule you just handed us shows Chester out during all the critical parts of putting the record together. I mean, he’s not even here to talk this through, he’s out doing press for another band.” Brad scanned his eyes down the schedule Mike had given him and the rules fell right out of his mind again as he scowled. “He promised this little side project wouldn’t get in the way.”

With that, Mike braced his hands against the side of his workstation and pushed up, stalking toward the window in a huff. He was tired of arguing the same points over and over. Brad didn’t know how to let things go. He stood looking out the window over the back garden, unfocused eyes not really seeing anything but Chester’s face in his mind… Chester as he had sheepishly handed Mike his touring schedule and waited anxiously for Mike’s reaction. 

It had been a year in the making, the rest of Chester’s solo album, and Mike had patiently waited for him to see the project through and come back to him. He’d learned to change diapers and heat bottles, and as the months rolled by, he’d learned to recognize Otis’ different cries, watched in amazement as his son learned and grew and began to crawl and then toddle around. The early morning hours, time spent in the recliner with the baby and a cup of coffee, had quickly become a favorite part of Mike’s days. Having a baby certainly made the time pass faster than it would have in breaks of the past, and Mike found very little time to miss Chester in his new, busier domestic life. When he did have quiet moments, he longed to get back into the studio, and he’d pacified himself by working on some new samples alone. Hours in the studio had been scarce, though, and he’d been looking forward to getting back to work more regularly when Chester came to him with the schedule and put that anticipation on pause.

The surprise and fear had been hard to disguise when Mike realized that finishing the solo album was only the beginning of what Chester had planned. He must have done a convincing job, though, as they talked through the implications and made each other promises, because now, here Mike stood, without Chester at his side, trying to defend decisions they’d made together. Decisions they had left the rest of the band in the dark about until right now. Decisions that Brad didn’t want to hear. 

“I don’t know what else you want me to say. I’ve got nothing else.” Mike turned away from the window to four sets of eyes watching him. “Does anyone _other_ than Brad have any thoughts?” 

Clearing his throat, Rob pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked between Mike and Brad before he carefully contributed his opinion. “I feel we have enough to work on that we can get things done without Chester. It’s not the preferred way, or even the best way, but I trust him to get his part done.” His wide, earnest eyes skimmed over the rest of the band members before they came to rest on Brad, who still looked unconvinced.

Dave nodded his agreement with Rob as Brad quietly seethed from the couch. It wasn’t that Brad thought Chester wouldn’t get his part done, he just didn’t think it would be on his schedule. Or Mike’s, for that matter. 

“If you say that you guys have it all worked out, that’s good enough for me,” Joe added, and Mike flashed him a tired but grateful smile. “Delson, I think you’re the only one worried about it. Cut him a little slack. You know how Chester is… always trying to stay busy. It’s good for him. You’re always the one busting his balls about drinking, at least if he’s working he’s not drinking himself into oblivion.”

Joe had a good point, and Mike was about to speak up and defend Chester as well when he remembered the last encounter he’d had with the guys in Dead By Sunrise, when everyone was drinking beer with Chester in the room, the night Ryan’s attitude had gotten under his skin. Where the five other members of Linkin Park had pledged an alcohol and drug free environment on tour and in gatherings, Chester’s other band hadn’t done the same. He wasn’t sure that keeping busy with Dead By Sunrise was going to ensure that Chester wasn’t drinking, but he couldn’t bring that up to Brad. Brad already fixated on each and every one of Chester’s challenges. It wouldn’t do any good to mention that the guys he’d be on tour with had no problem drinking around him. It would give Brad one more reason to worry himself into an ulcer.

“Fine,” Brad grumbled. “If all of the rest of you think there’s not going to be a problem, then that’s the majority. I’ll just sit over here and think up guitar parts you’re going to end up synthesizing anyway.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m doing,” Mike argued, waving his hand toward the console. “I mean, I haven’t synthesized _all_ of it.”

“It just makes more work for me,” Joe grinned, and Brad scowled.

“Just remember, Shinoda, while we work though this mess and you’re doing all this work without Chester, you promised this was all going to work out. All this changing and mixing and these half-assed lyrics you’ve got right now. We’re all counting on you and Chester to get your parts together.” Brad looked around the studio, and everyone nodded their agreement. “Play that last track again,” he said, leaning his head back into the couch. “I think I hear something in my head that will work just fine for that.”

Another hour passed as five members of Linkin Park listened to and made notes on track after track of incomplete songs before Dave stood up and stretched. “I promised Linsey I’d take the girls to the park this afternoon after lunch. She really needs a little bit of a break. We’re almost at the end of our time today, let’s stop here.” 

There was no argument from the rest of the band, and Brad collected everyone’s notes, dropping them on the corner of Mike’s desk. “We can get back to this tomorrow, we’ve got some more time penciled in for the morning.” Brad glanced at Mike. “Is he coming tomorrow?” ‘He’ didn’t need to be defined.

Mike shook his head. “Their flight out is early. But he said he’d stop by on the way home from the interview today, so we could talk through what the five of us came up with.” 

Everyone nodded easily except Brad, who just narrowed his eyes and said, “okay. I guess you’ll let us know how that goes tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, I will.” Mike stood up to follow the guys down and see them out. “Ten tomorrow, that late enough for you, Joe?”

“I should be able to get second breakfast before that, yeah. This morning I only got to eat once before I came. Eight is too early,” Joe said from the front of the line of men tromping down the stairs. 

On the way to the front door, Mike scooped Otis up from the floor of the den where he was stacking blocks and all the guys took their turns tickling toes and tummy before making their way out. Dave escaped quickly, his fatherly duties calling, and Rob and Joe weren’t far behind, leaving Brad and Mike in the foyer with Otis reaching for Brad’s neck. Mike passed the toddler off into Brad’s arms easily, to the little boy’s delight.

“Bad!” he exclaimed, patting Brad on the cheek and beaming.

“Still no r’s, huh, buddy. It’s okay. I can be Uncle Bad for a while longer.” Brad grinned at Mike, all of the annoyance from the earlier meeting dissolving as Otis continued to pat around on his face.

“Bad!” Otis cocked his little face to the side inquisitively as he poked at Brad’s hair, and Mike burst out laughing.

“Yeah, buddy, Uncle Brad’s hair is all gone. I’m surprised you recognized him!” Mike’s face was aglow with amusement watching his little boy try to process his Uncle Brad’s new look. “We’ll have to reintroduce you to the fans,” he said to Brad. “Though, thankfully, Bourdie decided to grow his out. It will help us all keep the two of you straight,” Mike teased, referring to their earlier days when Brad and Rob were frequently mistaken for each other.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brad agreed, quickly kissing Otis’ cheek before passing him back to his father. “I’ll see you in the morning, man. You, too, Shinoda,” he said, pointing at Mike. “Stay out of trouble this afternoon, alright?” Before Mike could respond, Brad was halfway out the door. 

“‘Oda!” Otis exclaimed, looking at Mike and drawing his attention back from Brad. “Papa!” He clapped his hands together as he made the connection that Shinoda and Papa were the same person.

Mike closed the front door behind the guitarist and shook his head. Trouble. Mike was never in trouble. He always knew exactly what he was doing. “That’s right. I’m Shinoda. So are you,” Mike said, pointing a long finger at Otis’ chest. “Otis Shinoda. Always a name you can be proud of, buddy. I’ll never give you a reason to be ashamed of your name.” With a smile, Mike headed back toward the den. “Let’s go see what we can build with those blocks, Otis Shinoda.” 

He let his mind drift as he built towers for Otis to knock over, thinking over the meeting that morning, the meeting tomorrow, and how he’d be seeing Chester before too much longer. Soon enough Otis was ready for a nap, and Mike took him up to his bedroom just before Chester was scheduled to arrive. 

The moment Mike closed the door to the nursery, he heard Chester downstairs greeting Anna, his timing uncanny. With light steps he bounded down the stairs.

“Hey, Ches, you coming up?” Calling around the corner, Mike didn’t even take the last step down into the hallway. 

In a matter of seconds, Chester appeared at the foot of the stairs. “Yeah, let’s go. I need to get home and finish packing, I can’t stay too long.”

They made their way back up to the studio, walking quietly past Otis’ room to Chester’s dismay. He’d wanted to see the little boy before he left out on tour. 

Mike shut the door softly behind them and moved to sit behind his computer, the same way he always did when they were in the studio together. 

“How did it go?” Chester asked, plopping down in the corner of the the couch Brad had been sitting on hours ago. One hand dropped casually onto his crossed knee as the other rose to run over his scruffy hair, hair that was gel free at the moment. It was soft and stubby and Mike wanted to pour gel into his hands and rub it over the vocalist’s head, turning the scrubby hair into small messy curls. 

Pulling himself out of thoughts of Chester’s hair, Mike rolled his eyes and tapped his hand over the pile of notes on the corner of his desk. “Once I finally got Brad to stop freaking out over your tour schedule, we managed to notate some tracks. It was fine.”

Chester rolled his eyes back at Mike and shook his head disdainfully. “I swear, Delson is more type A than you are. He needs to fuckin’ relax.”

“That’s what I said!” Mike agreed, smiling at the annoyance on his friend’s face. “The other guys had your back, so it was fine. We talked Brad off the edge, I think.” Mike picked up a pencil and pointed the eraser end at Chester. “Do you want to listen to what he did this afternoon? I mean, I could listen to it again, if you want. If you want to give your opinion.” 

With a shrug Chester looked at the pile. “Do you need it now? I could just take it with me and send you my notes. It would give me something to do while the guys are out drinking after shows.”

In a flash Mike’s eyes settled on Chester’s face, instantly forgetting he’d told the guys he’d have Chester’s notes in the morning at their next meeting. “Do they do that all the time, Ches? That so not cool.” A worried wrinkle appeared between Mike’s eyebrows as he thought of Chester, alone in a hotel somewhere far away, where he couldn’t get to him if he was needed. “Do they just leave you… alone?” 

Chester had done a handful of small, mostly local shows, in the past year, and Mike had stayed away from them after the first one he attended last year in honor of Club Tattoo. Something about watching Chester on stage with someone else, especially with that someone else being Ryan, bothered him too much to witness it again. Now he felt guilty, as though he should have been with Chester all along, knowing that he had been struggling to stay away from the alcohol the other guys were enjoying. 

With an exasperated sigh and a half smile, Chester shrugged again. “It’s not on purpose, I’m just trying to stay sober. I promised you guys, Mike, that I wouldn’t go down that road again. I don’t promise things to you guys lightly. So, I just don’t want to go out with them. I’ll only get myself in trouble.”

Mike huffed indignantly. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone, Chester. I mean, I know you’re a grown ass man and all, but…” his voice trailed off and a softness came over his face as he gazed at his vocalist. “I just worry about you, Ches. I know it’s not easy to be inside your own head all the time.”

They looked at each other for a moment, years of conversation and secrets about Chester’s demons passing between them before Mike went on, “promise me you’ll call if you need me, Ches. I’ll answer the phone, no matter what, I promise you.”

“Of course I’ll call,” Chester agreed quickly. “I’ll probably be calling you every night anyway. It will be weird to be on tour but not be with you-”

“I know, it feels strange, doesn’t it?” Mike interrupted, as though he’d been waiting for Chester’s admission before bringing up his own thoughts. “I can’t believe you’re going to be gone three weeks! By the time you get back I’ll have been so bored I’ll have half the album finished.”

“You wish!” Chester laughed and shook his head. “Don’t try to act like you don’t need me too, ‘Noda.” 

Even as Mike and Chester tried to lighten the mood between them, there was a sense of melancholy over them both. As Chester glanced over some of the notes from the earlier meeting, Mike found himself lost in thoughts of not being able to protect Chester while he was away. It was starting to cause his stomach to feel sick when a bolt of remembrance flashed through his brain. He perked up again and looked at Chester, whose eyes were now wide and questioning. 

“Before you go, I got you something.” Mike’s face was shining in anticipation now, the sorrow in his heart lifted for a moment as he turned and rummaged through his backpack. _I know it’s in here, I put it in here the day I bought it. Where is it?_ His fingers poked through every crevice before he felt the cool glass in the corner of the bag. “Here!” he said triumphantly, yanking his hand from the backpack and holding it out toward Chester. “It’s a small thing, really. Close your eyes.”

With a grin, Chester complied, dropping the notes back onto the desk just before Mike reached for his wrist, turning the palm of his hand up toward the ceiling. For a moment he paused, looking at the soft white palm stretched in front of him, etching the lines of Chester’s hand into his memory as he placed the small bottle of nail polish into it, gently closing the vocalist’s fingers around the glass.

A bemused smile came over Chester’s face as he felt the slight weight in his hand. Mike watched as he opened his eyes and his hand, glancing down at the dark nail polish he was now holding. 

“Look at the name of the color,” Mike prompted, and immediately Chester turned the bottle over for a peek. 

Squinting at the small print, Chester read aloud, “Lincoln Park After Dark.” Raising one eyebrow, his gaze shifted to Mike. “They spelled Linkin Park wrong.” 

They both giggled as Chester tossed the bottle back at Mike. “Paint them now,” he demanded, wiggling his fingers in the air before pulling a chair up to the desk. “I can’t go on tour with boring nails.” Freezing in place, Chester paused and cleared his throat. “It will be like I’m taking you with me.”

Their eyes met and just for a moment, Mike saw the regret in Chester’s eyes. It was going to be harder than they wanted to admit, Chester going off on his own. When Mike had done Fort Minor shows, it hadn’t been easy, but Fort Minor had been so different from Linkin Park that it didn’t feel like there was a hole next to him on stage. This felt entirely different, though neither of them were quite sure why.

Trying to steer the conversation back into lighter territory, Mike said, “so demanding,” teasing the vocalist as he deftly caught the bottle and began shaking it. “I hope you have someone you can boss around while you’re gone, you might lose your edge if you don’t.” 

“Nobody will be as fun to boss around as you, Mikey.” 

Mike winked before he said, “I only let you think you’re in charge, Ches.” Capturing one of the vocalist’s hands, he smirked as he continued to shake the nail polish bottle. “You ready?”

Chester silently nodded his head in response as Mike placed his hand on the desk and opened the bottle, pulling out the brush and inspecting the color. “It’s like… kind of purple,” he said with surprise.

“Is it?” Chester leaned forward and they peered into the bottle together, faces inches apart. 

Mike picked up the scent of Chester’s expensive shaving cream as they looked at the color. He glanced at Chester through lowered lashes, his heart racing at the proximity of his best friend. “Yeah,” he managed before he sat back, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. _What was that?_ He dabbed the brush on the lip of the bottle before reaching for Chester’s hand again, forcing his heart to stop hammering in his ribcage. 

He scooted his chair closer around to Chester and bent his head closer to his work, confidently holding the vocalist’s hand as he swiped the nail polish brush first down the center, then along the sides of each nail. At this point, Mike had completed this particular task so many times that he could perfectly cover Chester’s nails in an even coat of polish in three efficient swipes. Still, he rolled his bottom lip over his teeth and bit down in concentration as he worked his way around one hand, then the other. He didn’t notice until he was finished how still the room had become, how quiet Chester had become, and how all he could hear was the sound of their breathing in the enclosed space of his soundproofed studio. There was no baby noise, no street noise, no sounds from the television or radio downstairs.

Mike lifted his head and found himself inches from Chester’s face, the vocalist watching Mike’s progress with intensity. “Well? How does it look?” 

Without even looking at his nails, Chester answered, “It looks great. You always do an awesome job. That’s why I make you do it, you know.”

_You don’t force me, I love doing this for you,_ Mike thought before he nodded, his gaze still locked into Chester’s guarded brown eyes. Before he could stop himself, he sighed, “I don’t want you to go. I understand why you’re going, but I don’t want you to… which isn’t very fair of me.” He finally glanced away, his grip still firm on Chester’s hand, and looked out the window at the small strip of blue summer sky he could see from his vantage point below the window. “I’m just being selfish. I want you here with me… you know, so we can work on the album,” he finished lamely.

A few seconds passed between them before Chester slowly smiled and murmured, “I’ll miss you, too, Mikey.”

They didn’t say anything again for another moment, before Mike added, “I… nobody else can paint your nails, Ches… only me.” His voice was low and husky and Mike couldn’t look away as Chester nodded his agreement. Mike lifted one hand of painted nails to his lips and blinked slowly before pursing his lips into an “o” and blowing gently, watching as Chester shivered when the warm breath hit his skin. There was a stirring of something in his stomach as Chester stared back at him. Longing? Desire? Possession? He didn’t know what to label the feeling but it wasn’t unfamiliar. It was the same feeling that crashed over him at different times, in different situations, but always and only with Chester. 

“I would never ask,” Chester breathed, his gaze on Mike’s full, perfect lips as he continued to blow over the freshly painted nails. A heartbeat later, he pulled his hand away from Mike’s and took over the job, lightly blowing on the nails as Mike watched. “I have something for you, too,” he mentioned between exhales. “It’s in the front pocket of my bag. You’ll have to get it so I don’t mess up my nails.”

The tension between them broken once more, Mike reached for the messenger bag Chester had slung on the floor, flipping it open and slipping his hand down the front opening. There was only one thing in the front of the bag- a compact disk. He pulled it out and his breath caught in his throat.

“It’s the finished tracks,” Chester explained, watching Mike’s face carefully. “I thought your might… want to listen.” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he wanted to say, _while I’m away._

Mike felt the flush of heat creep up his cheeks as he held the cd, Chester’s handwriting scrawled across the surface in sharpie. “I see you couldn’t find a jacket,” he managed to say.

With a grin, Chester shrugged. “I figured I’d save you the trouble of asking for the names of the tracks, and I didn’t have time to find a sleeve. You’re holding in your hand a rare artifact, Shinoda. A handwritten track listing on a burned cd of an album that’s not even released yet. It’s one of a kind, made especially for you.”

_No more listening to that track I saved secretly. Now I’ve got it all._ As he reached to put the cd in his computer, Mike felt a rush of adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t wait to be alone with Chester’s new music later. The man’s voice was a drug. “Thanks, Ches,” he said softly. Their eyes met and Mike reached for his hand one more time. “I’ll let you know what I think.” He stopped and swallowed, forcing what he hoped was a lighthearted smile. “Now, let’s get this nail polish dried so you can get out of here,” he said, blowing gently on Chester’s left hand once again.


	14. Part Two: ATS -- Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still in Part Two, as DBS and ATS overlap a little bit.
> 
> The book referenced within is “If You Give a Cat a Cupcake” by Laura Numeroff.

[October 19, 2009]

Mike pushed his hair out of his eyes wearily for what felt like the hundredth time since he sat down at his computer hours ago. Progress had been slow and his face was etched in deep lines of frustration as he berated himself for the negative turn the day had taken. Nothing seemed to be working at the moment, and nothing he had thought of so far to fix things had helped. 

As he mulled over the last argument he’d had with Brad about the tracks, earlier this afternoon, his eyes flicked over to the guitar in the corner- Brad’s guitar- left there when he’d stormed out earlier. _I should call him. It’s been a few hours, so we’re both probably calmer, and talk this out. We can’t keep fighting like this._ They usually managed to fight like band members with the other guys around, but lately, when it was just Mike and Brad, the arguments had gotten personal. They had a tendency to shift and morph from musical frustrations to personal frustrations, and more often than not, those personal frustrations included some slight by Brad against Chester. Mike sighed and pushed his hand up through his hair again, this time leaving his fingers tangled in the long locks as he rested his elbow on the desk and dropped his head forward. 

_Brad’s wrong. The problems with the album are not just because Chester has been away so much. It’s just these new ideas, and I’m hearing things I don’t really know how to get down, and I think I’ve got it figured out and then I change my mind… and Brad’s getting impatient. Hell, I’m impatient. I thought we’d have more lyrics by now._

He massaged his fingertips along his scalp, trying to relieve some of the tension and stimulate his brain. He refused to allow the thought that Chester’s absence was screwing everything up. They had spent hours on the phone tossing words around, and some nights were as easy as if Chester were sitting across from him in the studio. Other nights they didn’t get much accomplished other than a lot of storytelling and laughing, but Mike wouldn’t have traded any of it… not even when he and Brad argued earlier today about the lack of lyrical direction.

Mike clicked on the track they’d been working on when Brad left, the sounds of synthesized organ filling his speakers. A little more than half of the track was down, and even a lot of the lyrics were there, so Mike had a hard time understanding what Brad was upset about. Most of his argument revolved around Chester being away and the lyrics not being solid, but Mike had a sneaking suspicion it also had to do with the lack of guitar on some of the tracks. _It’s just not fitting. If we’re trying to do something different, if we’re trying to avoid the same old thing every time we write, then electronics make sense this time. I don’t know why he’s fighting me so hard._ As he played back the track he grew more indignant. _Brad’s wrong. This is almost finished. Without much guitar, but that’s okay. It’s not all about Brad._

_Lift me up, let me go. Leave it all down below._

Something didn’t quite settle with Mike about the way Chester sounded on those words, even if they did rhyme. It was impossible to fix without the vocalist in the studio with him to trade words and ideas. It would have to wait until they were together tomorrow. He was tired of working on the track alone, and besides that, he knew the right thing to do was to reach out to Brad before he got wrapped up in dinner and family time. They had stewed over the afternoon’s argument long enough.

With a tired shake of his head, Mike reached for his phone. He had to set things right with Brad, they couldn’t end the day mad at each other. Just as he was about to dial up the guitarist, a notification popped at the top of his phone.

5:34 PM _Please? You haven’t heard most of the songs live. I’ll make Ryan behave himself._

Mike’s finger froze over the screen as he read the text message from Chester. Dead By Sunrise was performing at The Roxy tonight, and Chester had practically begged Mike to come to the show. Right now, he couldn’t fathom dealing with the sight of Chester and Ryan after such a frustrating day. 

5:35 PM _I don’t think so. I’ve been working all day and I’m beat. Besides, I promised Anna we’d have dinner together tonight. I’ve been working too much. I’m sorry._

There was no immediate response and Mike’s heart skipped a beat. _He’s mad. Now I’ve got both Brad and Chester mad at me._ After a couple of anxious minutes, Mike was about to send another text when a response came through.

5:37 PM _But I miss you_

Mike felt the squeeze of his heart as he glanced at the text. _I miss you too, Ches. Writing is so much harder when you aren’t with me._ He thought about the track he’d just been listening to, and then his gaze shifted over to the legal pad on his workspace, where there were more crossed out words than anything else. He closed his eyes again as exhaustion swept over him. He didn’t know what to say. If the truth were being told, he _wanted_ to see Chester, but the combination of his mood and Ryan was sure to be too much. All he really wanted was a glass of wine. If he could get Chester to just understand he wasn’t coming, he could go get that glass of wine and have a nice dinner with his family. With determination he focused back on the phone. Chester could be tenacious- Mike knew he would have to be direct. 

5:40 PM _I can’t make it tonight. Besides, we’re all having breakfast tomorrow, that’s not that far away. Just call me later tonight, when you’re home. I’ll be waiting._

5:41 PM _15 more hours? :(_

5:41 PM _You can do it. I believe in you ;) Have a great show, check in later._

5:42 PM _Fine_

He wasn’t even aware of the small smile of victory on his face as he dialed Brad’s number. One problem solved, one more between him and his glass of wine.

“Hey, man, listen-”

Cutting in, Mike said, “I called you to apologize, Brad!” There was a pause and then a light laugh from the guitarist, and Mike smiled tentatively. “I don’t want to fight like this afternoon, Brad. I’m working hard, I swear. Ches and I talk almost every night, working on lyrics. I’m trying to keep us on track. After you left today I just felt… defeated. We weren’t even fighting fair, you know?” He paused and waited, then decided to take the high road, adding, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we aren’t making a lot of progress.” _There. It wasn’t all my fault but I’m owning it. We have to get along to get this album finished._

The chuckle died off, replaced with a deep sigh from the guitarist. “I’m sorry I was yelling at you, Mike. Especially about him. I shouldn’t take my frustrations with Chester out on you.”

“I do wish that you wouldn’t,” Mike agreed carefully. The slight tension that was always there between them at the mention of Chester was palpable, even over the phone. There was something undefinable between the three of them that made Mike feel as though he had to protect Chester from Brad. He knew that to a degree it was jealousy, as Mike relied heavily on Chester for lyric writing. Before Chester joined the band, Mike would bounce ideas off Brad when he got stuck, but now Brad usually came into the mix once lyrics were fairly set, listening to what Chester and Mike had come up with and writing his guitar parts over those ideas. Even though he and Brad had been best friends since junior high, Mike was fairly certain the reason the guitarist had such a short thread of patience with the vocalist was due to the amount of time Mike spent with him. _You had your chance to be number one, Delson. You didn’t want it._

“I just… _feel_ that you’re making a lot of excuses for Chester right now,” Brad said, equally as carefully. “His schedule shows them doing mostly local shows over the next week, so I assume you guys have some face to face writing time scheduled… right?” 

“Of course. He’s coming to the house for sure tomorrow, we were even going to try to get some of this stuff recorded.”

“What are you planning to record? You guys don’t have anything finished,” Brad asked skeptically. 

“I think we’re close on Meadowlands. I’ve got most of the electronics finished, but I can’t do the mixing until I get his vocals down. And then you’ll have something to work your stuff over. Rob’s part is already there. It’s probably the closest to being finished, actually. That and the track you and I were working on…”

There was another long pause, and Brad asked quietly, “Mike? How confident are you that we’re going to make this deadline in June? We’re nine months out, and I don’t even know that we have a clear direction on this one yet. I’m not trying to be an ass… I’m just nervous as hell. We’ve got to have this record out on time, it’s the the first one in that advance we got. We can’t miss on this one.”

“I know… I know, Brad.” Frustration crept back into Mike’s voice and his hand was in his hair again. He scratched his long fingers through it from from front to back with another long sigh. “You’re gonna have to trust me. You’ve known me longer than anyone else. You know I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it gets finished. You _know_ me,” he said again.

“Yeah, I know you…” Brad’s voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. “But whatever it takes? Even if you have to tell Chester to stay home?”

Mike swallowed uncomfortably and considered. Would he be able to tell Chester to abandon his other project, his baby, if Linkin Park got into serious trouble? He wasn’t sure, and for once he didn’t know what to say.

“Just remember, Chester promised this new project wouldn’t get in the way of us,” Brad reminded him in the silence.

“I know,” Mike agreed, his shoulders slumping a bit as he considered exactly what he was saying. He didn’t want to have to be the one to tell Chester that Dead By Sunrise was compromising the band. That seemed like a band meeting conversation, and Brad was trying to put it all on him. “If that’s what needs to happen, then I will be part of that conversation between all of us,” he said firmly. “I won’t do it alone.”

“As long as you’re on our side, Mike.”

Brad’s words hung in the air like a challenge. Of course Mike was on their side. They were all in this together, weren’t they? He didn’t understand why Brad was trying to make it seem like there were sides to be taken in the first place. _I don’t defend him that much, do I?_

After they said their goodbyes Mike sat for a few more minutes, scrolling through all of the unfinished tracks they had for the next album. It really was time to narrow things down and get serious. Whatever direction this album was going to take was going to be determined by how those selected tracks fit together… and for once, Mike didn’t know exactly how that was all going to work out. 

**********

It was Mike’s turn to read to Otis before bed- a time that he cherished in the evenings when the little boy climbed into his lap in the nursery, curling his small body into Mike’s. Anna had taken their wine glasses into the bedroom and was waiting for him as he went through the bedtime routine with their son. 

“If you give a cat a cupcake…” Mike held the book out in front of Otis as he read, pointing out things to look at in the illustrations as he went. The book was silly and one of their favorites to read, especially when Mike exclaimed, “dinosaurs! Rrrrwaaaaarrrr!” to his son’s delight. 

As he read, Otis would touch the pictures with one small, slender finger, asking, “what dat?” over and over until Mike had described and explained every item in the book. It was part of their bedtime reading ritual, making a book that should take five minutes to read stretch into almost thirty minutes. Those still moments of his son’s slight weight against his chest, listening to and soaking up the sound of his father’s voice, were more precious to Mike than he could have ever imagined before Otis’ birth. He hated to lay him in the crib and say goodnight, but it was time for bed, and Otis had started to rub his eyes with his fist.

“You’re sleepy, huh, buddy?” Mike asked softly, standing up with Otis in his arms and walking over to the shelf to replace the book they’d just finished. Two small chubby arms were around his neck, holding him close, and Mike turned his lips into Otis’ temple again as he stepped closer to the crib. The smiling, brilliantly painted toucan looked him in the eye as he laid the toddler down, and Mike felt completely at peace in the quiet of the room, his body relaxed and warm from the wine he’d started at dinner. 

“Goodnight, Otis. Sweet dreams.” Even though they’d been trying to break the habit, Otis’ thumb immediately found its way to his mouth and his eyelids fluttered closed. Mike stood next to the crib for a moment, marveling that his boy could fall asleep so quickly when he himself struggled to turn off his mind in order to relax enough to fall asleep. _At least he didn’t get that from me._ He looked up at the toucan. _Look after him tonight, Ches. Keep my boy safe._

He shut the door softly behind him and made his way to the master bedroom, just down the hall. Mike was ready to finish his wine and relax a little before Chester called and they ended up scrawling lyrics until midnight. Chester was the main reason he wasn’t getting enough sleep these days. It was like being on tour with him, but from the comfort of his own home. With a heart full of anticipation, he caught sight of Anna already in bed, as he walked into their bedroom. The sun had not sunk below the horizon and the sky outside their bedroom window was orange. It was still early.

“He’s asleep?” Anna looked up from the book she was reading in bed, a knit blanket over her shoulders and her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked adorably studious, her red wine glass in her other hand. 

“Yeah, went down without a problem,” Mike murmured as he tugged his shirt off from the collar and pulled back the comforter. He reached for his wine glass Anna had left on his bedside table. “Whatcha readin’?”

Anna placed a bookmark as she snapped the book closed and leaned over to drop it on the bedside table, folding her glasses and setting them on top of the book. “Just some light fluff.”

“Oh, more Nicholas Sparks?” Mike teased, settling down against the headboard and scooting up close behind her back. “I thought you were into more serious literature.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from the back of her neck and placed a gentle kiss there, breathing in her scent deeply as he felt her petal-soft skin under his lips. 

“Sometimes I just need an escape,” she whispered as Mike’s hand slid around to her stomach and she turned, resting her back on the pillow and looking up at Mike as his hand rubbed lazy circles. “What are your plans for tomorrow? More studio time?” 

“I’ve got breakfast with the guys at 8:30, and I’m not sure if that’s going to end with all of us here or just me and Chester, but I’m sure it will end in some studio time. We haven’t all been together in a while, it could turn into a whole day.” It was easy to see the shade of disappointment in Anna’s eyes, and he sighed, pulling back his hand. They’d been down this road so many times, the delicate balancing of work and home that at one point had Anna so frustrated she’d wondered if she could keep being the wife of Linkin Park’s emcee. “This one’s been hard, Anna. I’m sorry it’s taking up so much of my time. I’m just not real sure where we’re going yet, and we’re six months out from the deadline already…” He trailed off, not quite sure what else to say as she looked at him. His day had been full of apologies.

Their eyes met for a moment before Anna’s dropped to his lips, studying his mouth intensely. “Do you even have anything finished yet?” 

He felt like he was talking to Brad again. Frowning, Mike took another sip of his wine. “There’s enough that’s close to being finished. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s been a frustrating day. I want to enjoy this wine with you and relax…”

With a slight smile, Anna nodded. “I can be on board with that.” She tipped her glass back and Mike watched the red wine stain her lips as she took another drink. She looked as relieved as he felt to abandon the topic of work and just enjoy each other’s presence. They settled into a comfortable silence as the sun set outside the windows and the room darkened little by little. By the time Mike’s glass was empty, Anna had switched on the little lamp next to the bed she used to read at night, casting a warm glow over them and leaving the rest of the room in shadow.

She reached over and took Mike’s wine glass, setting it next to hers on the table before turning back to him. Mike caught her gazing at his mouth again as the tip of her tongue wet the center of her lips, and that was all it took for him to lean over and softly bring their lips together. If there was one thing he didn’t have to apologize for at the moment, it was this. The kiss was tender and warm and tasted like the wine they’d been drinking, and Mike could feel the day’s tension dissipate as Anna’s body molded to his, her signals to him clear. He felt one of her hands slide through his hair and a shiver ran down his spine. Since he’d let his hair go and get longer, Anna had realized that Mike actually liked having his hair pulled a little bit, a recent discovery after years of marriage. Just feeling her slim fingers in his hair made his stomach flip in anticipation. Suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the album, or Chester, or anything but finding a way to make them both feel better.

He felt the soft tug of Anna’s fingers in his hair and he deepened their kiss, sliding his body on top of hers and running his hands under her t-shirt, skimming his fingertips across her skin and up her ribcage. He took his time smoothing over every inch of skin, kissing her neck and listening to her whimpers of desire. They knew each other’s bodies well, and Mike knew by the time he finally got them both naked and kissed his way down her stomach that he’d find her ready for him, anxious to feel him inside her and anxious for her release. He was surprised, then, as he reached to join their bodies together, that she stopped him. 

“Wait.”

It was only a breathy moan but Mike paused, the very tip of his dick feeling the enticing warm wetness he could barely stop himself from claiming. He watched in awe as his wife smiled at him and turned over on her stomach without even being asked, spreading her legs and giving him quite the view. With one hand on her hip, he wasted no time taking her from behind, sinking inside her until they were fully connected and he was completely surrounded by the tight warmth.

“Fuck… Anna,” he moaned, gripping her hip tightly with one hand as he smoothed the other across her back. “ _Fuck._

“God, I love to hear you say that,” she breathed, pushing back into him as he leaned over her.

With his lips close to her ear he whispered, “ _fuck_ ” with extra emphasis on the front and back of the word, and his reward was the tightening of her body in response to hearing the curse she craved dropping from his lips. This wasn’t going to take long, he knew, as he circled a fingertip around her clit and felt the shudders of her body around his dick. She was close and so was he, but as always, in the front of his mind, he was determined to make her come before him. It was his personal mission to be certain she was satisfied, and he knew if she was the one initiating their intimacy, she had been craving his touch all day.

For a moment shame crept over him as he realized he’d spent so much time in the studio and away from Anna recently. Even during this most intimate moment, work was finding a way to intrude. He knew he hadn’t been as attentive as he should have been, and he knew that she missed him. As he spread kisses along her shoulder blades he silently chanted “ _I’m sorry_ ” to the rhythm of his thrusts, willing the message to get through to her through his actions instead of his words. Mike felt the tension rising in her body before she cried out his name as she came, gripping the bedsheets in her fists and arching her back. He pulled her hips tight against his and thrust through her orgasm, enjoying the way she felt around him, pushing aside the guilt he was feeling in order to find his same release. For a moment his body sagged against hers, spent, before he guided Anna’s hips down to the mattress with him and rolled them both to their sides, spooning behind her and still deep within her, savoring the connection. 

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing his hand up and down her arm. 

Without hesitation, she answered, “I love you, too,” reaching to stop his hand, weaving their fingers together and pulling his arm around her tightly. “Maybe we can take a little getaway soon, just me and you. My parents can keep Otis and you can get a break from the studio. We can go to the mountains,” she offered hopefully.

The euphoria from their intimacy waned almost instantly as work came back front and center in Mike’s mind, and he blurted out, “I don’t think I can take any time off right now, honey.” He felt the tension briefly in Anna’s body and she shifted, pulling away from him. It was sticky and uncomfortable between them as she turned to face him, her eyes troubled in the dim lighting of the bedside lamp.

“Really, Mike? You don’t think you can take a few days to get away with me? When do I get to feel like you’re my husband again?” Her voice was soft but he could hear the wounded tone laced within her words. 

Despite the defensiveness he felt rising in his thoughts, Mike managed to just mumble, “I’m sorry.” _All I’ve done all day is apologize. I can’t get anything right._ “I didn’t mean it to be so harsh… I just… there’s so much to do, and Chester is away and that makes it so much harder to get things done…” Mike trailed off as Anna sighed.

“Chester.” She let the name sit between them for a moment before she said, “why is it okay for Chester to go off and do something else, take time away from the band, but you can’t?”

It was an argument that hadn’t been presented to him before, and Mike was stunned speechless for a moment. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Anna was right. What Chester had been doing ultimately amounted to a break from Linkin Park, and Mike hadn’t even considered that until she brought it up, ruining their post-coital bliss. “I… I don’t know,” he said honestly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. He didn’t want to think about this right now. For a moment he sat there, holding tightly to the edge of the bed, his mind swirling as he tried to come up with a way to prevent Anna’s thoughts from being the truth. When no argument came to him, he sighed and stood up, heading for the bathroom. “I’m going to shower,” was all he said.

Anna watched him walk away and shut the door to their bathroom before she turned on her side, away from Mike’s side of the bed. The wine glasses taunted her from the table- so much for romance- and she blinked back tears as she switched off the lamp. All she wanted was a few days alone with Mike. It didn’t seem like too much to ask, and as stressed as he had been, she had been certain he would say yes. Now her feelings were hurt, even though they hadn’t even argued. Mike had simply walked away, and to make it worse, Anna knew that he’d be awake for hours more, because Chester hadn’t called yet.

She was still awake when Mike emerged from the bathroom, and she listened to him move about the room quietly, opening drawers for clean boxers and a t-shirt. He’d just finished and she was about to call him back to the bed when she heard the vibration of his cell phone, and his low voice answering the call.

“Hey, Ches… give me a sec, okay? Let me get to my studio so I don’t wake anyone.” 

Anna heard him shut the door to the bedroom and lay still, listening to the sound of silence resonate through their bedroom as Mike crept down the hall to safety, to his nightly conversation with Chester.


	15. Part Two: ATS -- The Morning After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter based off this LPTV clip: https://youtu.be/vlcMQ3teZ1g

When Mike opened his eyes the next morning he was surprised that he’d fallen asleep in the studio. His phone was on his chest and a legal pad had dropped to his side, and a sinking feeling crept over him as he remembered the way he and Anna had left things the night before. They had always tried not to go to sleep angry at each other, but he’d gotten out of bed and showered instead of talking with her, and from the looks of things, she hadn’t bothered to come check on him.

_Fuck. Anna’s probably so pissed at me. It’s not going to help that I’ve got a full day planned with the guys, either._ Mike scratched under his ear and sat up, his back stiff from sleeping on the studio sofa. Grabbing his phone before it hit the floor, he glanced at the time as he stretched out his back. He had just under an hour to be at the band’s favorite breakfast place, and to somehow try to talk to Anna. Making things right with her was something he didn’t want hanging over his head all day.

He picked up the legal pad and skimmed over what he’d written the night before, as he and Chester talked their way through more lyrics before he’d apparently fallen asleep. It looked as though they had actually filled in a lot of gaps and reworked several words, and Mike was feeling good about getting Chester home and in the studio that afternoon. 

With a smile, he tossed the lyrics on the desk and made his way to the bedroom to get dressed. It was quiet, Anna having already risen for the day, the bed made, the curtains drawn back to let in the light. The room looked cold to Mike- clean and neat, but emotionless, and he paused, trying to put his finger on what was missing. Maybe it was just time for a new paint color, something warmer. Maybe they needed to go buy new sheets, or a new duvet cover. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and headed for the walk-in closet, quickly plucking out a long sleeved button down and a pair of dark wash jeans for the day and throwing them on. As he brushed his teeth he surveyed his hair in the mirror and decided to just wear his gray knit beanie instead of bothering with it, opting to use that time instead to see where things stood with Anna.

He could hear her sing-song voice talking with Otis as she made his breakfast, and with light footsteps he bounded into the kitchen, his smile wide.

“Morning, honey! Morning, Otis!” 

Otis clapped happily and reached his arms up for his papa from his seat in the high chair, and Mike greeted his son with a kiss and the ruffle of a hand through his hair, the same way he did most mornings. By contrast, Anna merely mumbled “morning,” in Mike’s direction as she placed a plastic plate of small pancakes and sliced bananas on the high chair tray, careful to scoot around Mike as she did so. She was already out of arm’s reach by the time he glanced in her direction, the happy mood fading. 

Otis was distracted by his bananas and Mike watched Anna move around the kitchen in silence for a few moments before he said, “sorry I fell asleep in the studio last night.”

“Mmm-hmm,” was the response as Anna wiped down the granite with a cloth. 

After a few seconds he tried again. “I intended to come back to bed, it just got late and-”

Anna cut him off, her eyes on the countertop she was cleaning. “It usually does.”

The silence stretched thin between them as Anna avoided eye contact and Mike studied her closely. After a minute, he replied, “I wish you would have come to get me, like you usually do.”

A heartbeat passed before Anna fired her shot. “I shouldn’t have to.” The icy gaze he got with her response caused Mike to duck his head in shame, and Anna turned away as the kettle boiled, pouring water over her coffee grounds without another word. 

_Yeah, she’s pissed. And nothing I say right now will make it better._ Mike thought about going to her and taking her in his arms and hugging her, but something told him that the best thing to do would be to just leave, get in the car, and make a phone call. Somehow he’d managed to really screw up last night, even though he didn’t think turning down a vacation was enough of a crime for her to treat him the way she was… he’d said no to vacations at critical times in the past, and none of those conversations had ended with Anna still mad hours later. 

With a sigh, he surrendered for the short term. “It seems like we should probably finish this later. I’ve got the band meeting soon but I want to come back to this, okay?” Mike leaned over and kissed Otis again, managing to stay clear of his sticky banana fingers, and looked at Anna. When she didn’t offer any agreement, he sighed and slipped out the back door. 

Before he was even at the end of their street, he’d placed the phone call he needed to make, waiting patiently for the line to be answered as it rang through.

*****

The breakfast meeting had been pleasant and ended with the agreement that Mike and Chester would spend the rest of the day at Mike’s working on some of Chester’s vocals before they all got together the following day to listen to the progress. When they had returned home, Anna had left a note that she and Otis had gone to the park. Mike was actually grateful to not have Chester know anything was amiss between him and his wife, and he ushered Chester upstairs to the privacy awaiting them in the studio, anxious to get to work. 

“I don’t know if I can sing, Mikey,” Chester whined, falling down to the sofa on which Mike had woken that morning. “I ate too much French toast.”

With a roll of his eyes, Mike admonished him. “This was your idea. You told the guys you wanted to get more vocals down before they heard anything.”

“We don’t have anything to play for them,” Chester pointed out, his hand on his stomach. “I had to put them off or Brad would have lost his mind. He already thinks I’m not doing anything.”

Mike dismissed the concern with the wave of one hand. “Brad’s worked up over the whole album,” he said. “One minute he’s complaining about all the synths, the next he says he doesn’t like most of the stuff because you haven’t been here to record and he ‘just can’t _hear_ it’.” Mike used his fingers for the air quotations before he dropped into his desk chair. “I know it’s heavy on the electronics right now, but it just feels right. It’s more… industrial sounding. The stuff we’ve been writing, Ches, it’s more charged, more political. The heavy rock guitar just doesn’t seem to work.”

Chester nodded, suddenly less dramatically stuffed with French toast. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense to have these big guitar solos in the middle of what we’re writing. We can do big moments some other way. Like… like… like group vocals, or something.” He looked at Mike earnestly, the thought occuring to him in that moment that maybe they could get everyone to sing this time around, not just Dave.

It was a new concept, and Mike nodded thoughtfully. “That might work, like in the chorus of Iridescent.” 

“I fuckin’ love that one,” Chester agreed enthusiastically. “That should be, like, the first single.”

Mike grinned and held out his hand like a traffic cop. “Hold on, now. We’re no where close to talking about singles, yet. Let’s get some vocals down this morning, see what we can get for the guys tomorrow, and go from there.”

“Alright, let’s do this!” Chester was up off the sofa quickly, as though his large breakfast had digested quickly and magically left him full of sugared energy. 

They worked feverishly through lunch, brainstorming new ideas as they went, changing words and melodies, trying out new harmonies and arguing passionately over opposing viewpoints before ultimately just trying out both thoughts. A quick break for sandwiches, coffee, and Chester’s favorite bottled water produced another inspired set of ideas, and by late afternoon Mike was wrecked, his eyes burning from staring at the computer screen for so long. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see how much time had passed. 

“Man, I forgot how much we can get done when we’re together, Ches,” he said, rubbing his eyes with one fist as he scrolled down his screen, calculating everything they’d worked on since breakfast.

He swiveled around in his chair to face Chester, who was sitting back on the sofa now, his fingers laced together on top of his head as he talked. Chester was animatedly explaining his next idea for a song they’d been struggling with, but Mike was watching Chester’s fingers caress the strip of hair down the middle of his head. The rest of his head had been recently shaved, and Mike was only halfway listening as he wondered when Chester had gone back to that haircut he’d sported at the beginning of the Minutes to Midnight tour. His eyes drifted over the black plugs in Chester’s earlobes, then settled on his mouth, distracted by the way words formed on his lips.

Unconsciously, Mike mirrored Chester’s lounging position, crossing his ankle over one knee and threading his fingers together behind his head. He didn’t realize, as Chester’s words started to filter through his brain again, that he had pressed his own lips together skeptically.

“What’s wrong?” Chester asked as he took note of MIke’s expression.

Mike had been caught off guard. He had no idea what Chester had been talking about, and found himself scrambling to say something. “Oh, nothing. Uh, why don’t you go sing for me how that would go,” he covered, turning around to face the computer again and picking up his headphones as he cheeks burned a little.

“Ooookayyy.” With a quizzical look, Chester stood up and walked to the vocal booth, grabbing his headphones from the hook just inside and slipping them on. He leaned out of the booth for a moment and looked at Mike, who was deep into the program on screen. It was Chester’s turn to gaze at Mike for a few moments, taking in the subtle curl of the hair on the back of his neck, where it had grown much longer than Chester had ever seen it. He wanted to touch it, to run his fingers through it, to feel the softness. They had to get this album finished so they could go back on the road. Time away from the emcee had caused Chester to become restless, to imagine being with him more than he should ever be thinking of his best friend. Despite being surrounded by friends, despite his wife, Chester felt lonely. He missed being with Mike. He missed how effortless it was to simply be together.

“I just… sing it on la or something, just so I can hear what you’re hearing in your head.” Mike looked over at the vocalist expectantly.

Chester’s thoughts snapped away from Mike’s hair and back to the matter at hand, turning back into the vocal booth and fumbling through some thoughts aloud as Mike recorded and saved them away. What followed was more talking, a few word changes, and then Chester was singing again as Mike frowned, shaking his head after the third attempt at the same chorus. 

“I don’t know what you want, Mike.” Frustration was starting to creep back in, Chester’s earlier burst of inspiration deflated, and he leaned out of the booth to see Mike, their eyes connecting. 

“Fuck. I’m tired.” Mike dragged the headphones off his head and stood up, pacing in the small rectangle of space where his computer chair lived. “I don’t know, Chester. We’ve worked and worked on these lyrics. Maybe let’s move on to something else and come back to this. Or even hang it up for the night. We’ve gotten a lot done today.”

“I’m going in the other room,” was Chester’s response, hanging up his headphones and taking the door in the back of the vocal booth into the other room where more of Mike’s instruments were stored. Flipping open the lid to the piano, he sat down and started messing around, and before long, Mike heard him slowly hacking through ‘Fur Elise.’

From the other room Mike sighed and clicked through half finished tracks on the screen. Chester’s piano playing filtered through the hallway that separated them. He let it go on for a while, wondering if he really wanted to attempt anything else or let it go for the day. 

_’Let it go.’_ Mike paused as he repeated those words in his mind, then flipped through his notepad of lyrics until he found the right song, scribbling the words in the margin. He’d come back to that later, with a fresh brain. There was something there, something to work with, he just couldn’t quite get it all into words at the moment. 

An almost finished track was staring at him when he looked back at the computer screen, and he called out, “Hey, Chester, let’s knock out this Meadowlands chorus change thing.” Mike looked expectantly at the open door, waiting for a response. 

The piano stopped and Chester appeared in the doorway, ready to put his headphones back on. “What’s changing?” he asked before he took a sip of water. 

“Well, Rick was thinking about the harmony... he was hearing a certain thing…” Mike looked at Chester and pulled off his hat, scrubbing his fingers through his hair as he thought. 

Chester raised his hands up and rolled his eyes. “Stop trying to figure out how to describe it, just sing it for me, sing the notes.”

With furrowed brows, Mike clicked the middle of the track and sang the notes, looking at Chester. “It’s something like that.”

“So, ‘all I wanna do is trade this life for something new’,” he tried.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it. Let’s get that down.” Suddenly Mike had renewed energy. He ran his hand through his hair again, sending it into complete disarray. “Damn, Chester, if we can get this down, and the end, this whole track is done. It will be the first one.”

The vocalist nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.” 

After a few tries, and Mike’s very dry “again… do it again” directions, he was satisfied enough to move on. That ball of excitement was growing in his stomach. They were so close to having something completed, something to take to the guys the next day to prove they were working. In his head, Mike could hear the ending he wanted, and he started trying to explain it.

“I don’t know how much more I’ve got in me today, Shinoda, you’re asking for screaming again?”

“Just this one part,” Mike plead. “The notes for the ‘holding on’ part are this.” He sang them carefully, then shook his head. “No, wait, this.” He tried again. 

Chester closed his eyes and sang them back. 

“No. No, this.” Mike sang them slower, a third time, and Chester tried again. Mike played back the last attempt and Chester’s head popped around the corner of the vocal booth.

“That’s better, that one’s better,” he said, his eyes wide as he looked at Mike. They could both feel it coming together, the crackle of electricity in the air as it all fell into place, the anticipation of the moment when they both knew it was something _good_.

Mike nodded, continuing with his thoughts. “So I want you to come in on ‘got’, ok? And then just go off from there. And then end when the song ends.” His eyes were sparkling as he clicked on the place he wanted to start in the track, listening as Chester took in a breath and let it all go. That was it, that magic they’d been waiting for, and they both knew it at the same time. 

Chester was grinning as Mike laughed in amazement. “That’s fuckin’ awesome! Such a good way to end this song! It’s like… I’ve been waiting for that note, in that voice, and-”

“For the entire record,” Chester offered in a flat voice, smiling as he teased the emcee.

Undeterred, Mike kept celebrating. “No, it’s like, it’s like, for this song, it just builds so steadily. And then you get that at the end, it’s such a payoff.” Mike’s face was radiant with excitement as he made a few last clicks on the computer screen, and saved their work. 

Mike was focused on the track as Chester took the headphones off and slid over to the sofa, collapsing onto the cushions dramatically. His face was split wide in an excited smile, and he gazed joyously at Mike. Euphoria over the completed track had erased everything else, the fatigue and tension from earlier gone, and when Mike turned, they looked at each other with the secret smile of satisfaction over both their faces. 

For a few moments the mood held, then Mike watched as the happy glow seemed to slide slowly from Chester’s expression, replaced with something else, something a little less celebratory and a lot more thoughtful, almost longing… a look that went straight to Mike’s heart.

“Ches,” he murmured, his palms suddenly damp, his stomach twisting anxiously. “I’ve missed this.” 

“Don’t,” Chester whispered, holding Mike’s gaze as he rubbed circles in the palm of his right hand with his left thumb. 

Mike recognized it as one of Chester’s nervous habits, and he scooted the chair forward and reached for him, taking Chester’s hand in his, running his own thumb over Chester’s palm. 

“I’m sorry, Mike…”

It was an apology for being away, and Mike closed his eyes, black strands flicking over his forehead as he shook his head. “It’s okay. We’re okay. The guys… they’ll be okay, we’ve got one finished now. And a couple more close.” His thumb continued to slowly, softly stroke over Chester’s palm and he held his breath, watching the vocalist carefully. “We’ve made good progress today.” Mike’s eyes flicked to the window, where somehow the sun had set without them noticing. “Wow, it’s late.”

Following the emcee’s gaze, Chester looked out the window too. “I didn’t realize how long we were in the zone. I should probably head home.” 

For just a moment, Mike’s fingers tightened on Chester’s hand, and then he reluctantly released him and stood up, stretching his arms over his head and lengthening his back. They had been working for quite a while, and Mike’s back was stiff. He didn’t miss that Chester’s eyes flicked to his stomach, to the strip of skin that was exposed as his shirt hem rode higher over his jeans. He lowered his arms and held out his hand again, helping Chester up after the vocalist accepted the offer.

They pulled each other into a tight hug, a hug that might have lasted a few seconds longer than it really should have. A hug that ended with the lightest touch of Mike’s lips to Chester’s temple, something he’d done hundreds of times after performances, but never in the studio. “This was good, today, Ches. You were amazing.” Mike drew back and looked at his friend, his throat feeling a little tight. 

Chester studied him for a moment and said simply, “you’re the reason. You came up with all of it, I just gave it a voice.”

Mike smiled and shook his head, adding lightly, “we’re a hell of a team, Bennington.”

They made their way downstairs and to the front door, Mike flicking light switches along the way. _I wonder if Anna’s already gone to bed. Why aren’t there any lights on down here? I’ve probably fucked up again. It’s so late._ He came out of his thoughts as Chester hesitated in the doorway, studying him silently again. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” Mike promised, his heart hammering with anxiety.

“Good night, Mikey,” Chester said, stepping out onto the porch.

“Night, Ches.” As an afterthought, he added, “the guys will be excited tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.”

Their goodbyes said, Mike closed the front door behind Chester and made his way back to the kitchen for a glass of water, stumbling upon his wife. Anna was sitting silently with only the light over the sink illuminated, a glass of white wine in her hand and a half empty bottle on the table. She was staring absently out the window into the darkness of the back garden when Mike stopped behind her chair, placing both hands on her shoulders and leaning over to kiss her hair, mumbling, “we’re finished.”

“Yeah,” was all she responded, bringing the glass up for another sip. 

Her shoulders were tense under his touch and his heart sank a bit. They never really stayed mad at each other. It had always been a priority to talk through their problems and be mindful of the other person’s feelings, but it didn’t seem as though Anna was even going to try. _She knew I had plans with guys this morning, I couldn’t back out. And I told her yesterday I’d be working, so it’s not fair to be mad. She knew._ “Hey… I know it took a while today, but we made good progress.” 

Anna didn’t even shrug her shoulders to acknowledge him, but Mike decided to keep talking anyway. “I’m sorry about last night,” he breathed, his fingertips stroking lightly over her neck, attempting to sway her. “I _want_ to get away with you. Let’s go to the mountains, like you suggested.”

“Oh. So now that you’ve got things settled a bit, I’m a priority to you?” Her focus was on the wine glass in front of her, and she was still on the defensive, hurt from last night, and not afraid to let him know. It was unusual, that she was being so bitter toward him, but Mike simply let it go, gliding his hands down her arms. 

“No, I would have told you earlier, but you had taken Otis to the park. I called your mom on my way to breakfast this morning, Anna. It has nothing to do with what we finished in the studio today and everything to do with the fact that I was wrong to say what I did last night. Let me make it right. I’ll take care of the details tomorrow. All you have to do is say yes.” With a hopeful smile that she couldn’t see, Mike reached around her, snuggling his face into her neck, relieved to feel Anna’s body relax into his embrace.

“I’d like that,” she whispered, turning her cheek into his seeking lips, allowing him to kiss her gently. Mike let his lips linger on her cheek for a moment as he hugged her, elated when she set the wine glass on the table and placed her hands over his forearms, squeezing him to her. “Thank you… you should get yourself a glass.” 

Pleased with himself for making things right, Mike smiled as she released him and gestured toward the bottle. “I’d love to,” he responded, walking over to the cabinet. “We can finish this bottle off and discuss our trip.”

Humming the end of the track he’d just worked on with Chester, Mike finally felt like all the pieces of the album were falling into place. His mind was light enough to be completely on board with a mini vacation, a complete change of heart from yesterday. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he then topped off Anna’s, and sat down contentedly next to her at the kitchen table. 

Anna watched the way he moved and the change in his posture from the day before, when he’d been weary and frustrated, and hoped that they had passed over the hardest part of the making of the upcoming album. She didn’t know how many more days like today she’d be able to take.


	16. Part Two: ATS -- Distracted

[December 20, 2009]

It was quiet in the car, and had been for miles. Anna glanced over at Mike, his right arm draped over the console and long fingers resting on the gear shift, his left hand on the leather wrapped wheel of her Mercedes SUV. Her eyes slid up his forearm, up his neck to his messy long hair, to the sunglasses covering his tired, sensitive eyes. It was impossible to determine his mood with his eyes covered. She wanted to know what he was thinking but didn’t want to interrupt the silence.

With restraint, Anna suppressed a sigh and turned back to her right, looking out the window as nature passed them by at a perfectly consistent seventy miles per hour. _Chester would know._ The thought came suddenly and without thinking she reached for a lock of hair, twisting it between her fingers as she argued with herself silently. Surely she knew her own husband better than his best friend did.

But did you ever really know another person completely? What was to stop someone, anyone, from holding things back? There were plenty of moments, if Anna were to stop and think it through, where she felt that Mike was hiding something, and always, always, it revolved around Chester. The longer they had been friends, the more time they spent holed up together writing and singing, the closer they had become, and the tighter Mike had held information about Chester. It felt at times that Mike protected Chester’s secrets more fiercely than he protected her own. 

_Secrets. There aren’t supposed to be secrets between us._ As she bit down on her lip and wondered how she’d ever broach the subject with Mike, he surprised her.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” 

Mike was glancing between her twisting fingers and the road, and Anna could see the small crease of concern between his eyes, not hidden behind the sunglasses. Immediately she dropped her hand into her lap and smiled, knowing the nervous habit had outed her. “Just ready to be there. Tired of being in the car.” She smiled brightly in his direction, and didn’t miss his lips pressing into a dissatisfied line.

“Ann…” he started, his eyes on the road. “You don’t fidget with your hair unless you’re worrying about something. What’s on your mind?” he asked again. Sometimes Mike was too observant. Like Chester rubbing his thumb over the palm of his hand, Anna’s hair twisting habit was an anxiety based reaction that Mike recognized immediately. 

Without thinking, Anna blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I _am_ tired of being in the car. But I was also thinking that I hoped you could really put work away while we’re here. Focus on us.” It was a way of saying, ‘leave Chester out of this’ without coming out and saying it. Anna wasn’t sure when it had happened, but it seemed like Chester was always there, in every moment of Mike’s day, whether he was there or not. Having left Otis behind at her parent’s for the week, Anna was keen on reconnecting with Mike, and it wasn’t a complete lie to claim she was worrying about his ability to relax. But the unspoken words- her worry over whether he’d be able to go a week without talking to Chester- didn’t seem to register as they normally might have, because Mike was distracted.

He shifted his right hand to the steering wheel as he lifted the left to run through his hair. _I don’t know what to say. I’m always thinking about work. I could be mixing right now. We got those group vocals done on Iridescent, but I haven’t put it together yet… soon that will be ready. One more thing I can check off the list._

His mind went to the studio, to the afternoon they’d spent arguing over choruses and drum parts, electronica and guitars, everyone with their own ideas and nobody really on the same page. It had been Brad’s vision to have everyone in on the Iridescent chorus the second time through, and even though their less experienced singers had been reluctant, Mike had managed to convince them all into giving it a try. That was, of course, after he came around to the idea himself.

Chester had pouted over Mike’s acceptance of ‘Brad’s idea’ for a while, until Mike had cornered him after lunch to ask what the hell his problem was. 

_”I brought up group vocals months ago, Mike, when we were working on Meadowlands. And now all of a sudden Brad mentions it and you’re all over it.” Chester’s eyes had glittered with poorly veiled jealousy._

_Mike had spread his hands wide, a supplicating gesture meant to calm the vocalist down. “It’s not like that, Ches,” he’d said, shaking his head. You know how this is going, everything changing day by day. When Brad first said it I wasn’t on board at all. But today… today it just feels right.”_

_Chester had stared at him for a minute, the look on his face a now mixture of fear and prideful disagreement. “Seems Brad’s been feeling right to you more and more these days.”_

_With that, he’d turned and walked away, leaving Mike feeling a little disoriented. He wasn’t used to arguing with Chester, but this album seemed to be bringing out the worst and best simultaneously in all of them._

_Later, as they stood in the circle, singing and re-singing the chorus, Chester had stood opposite Mike, graciously demonstrating what it was supposed to sound like and coaching Rob and Joe through the notes, all the while ignoring Mike’s hurt looks. It wasn’t until they were several takes in, when Mike instructed Chester to “go for it” that he locked eyes with Mike across the circle, putting every ounce of himself he could into bellowing out “let it go,’ his voice soaring over the others. It was a moment like the one they’d shared in Mike’s home studio, a moment that brought tingles of excitement to Mike’s stomach just as it was doing now in the car as he thought about it again. It was that moment they both knew- this is it- this is the one. That moment that everyone else fell away and they were singing at and for each other, despite the hurt feelings from earlier._

“Mike?”

He jolted out of his thoughts and looked guiltily at Anna, instantly realizing he hadn’t responded to her worries. “I… um… I’ll be fine, once we’re there. I’m still… in work mode, I guess.” His hand was curled around the back of his neck, pressing into the tendons there as he sought his own stress relief. 

There were a few moments of silence before Anna quietly said, “I really want this weekend to just be about us, Mike. Most of the time lately I feel like you’re so far away, inside your own head, and I can’t even get to you anymore.” She reached across the console and placed her hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly and looking at him with concern. 

Her words made his insides ache and he switched hands on the steering wheel again to allow himself to drop his right hand over hers. One of the things Mike wanted in his marriage was to be a good husband, to make his wife feel honored and loved, and lately he felt as though he was failing in her eyes. It was like this every time the band was working on a new album. He retreated inside himself, into the creative space in his mind that she just couldn’t enter, to work out all of the things troubling him. The only person who could really penetrate into that space was Chester- and right now Mike knew, over the course of this next week, nothing could be about Chester. He had to take some time off and focus on his wife, before his inattentiveness blossomed into something irreparable.

“I promise, I’ll be present. I’m looking forward to getting away from it all… with you.” Mike squeezed Anna’s hand and they lapsed into silence again, his fingers laced through hers resting on his thigh. He felt the warmth of her hand and wished he knew what else to say, but knew that short of making the last six months up to her this week in the mountains, there wasn’t anything else to say at the moment. 

Anna felt the restless shift in Mike’s leg as silence deepened, and she wondered again where his mind had traveled. She didn’t want to know but she suspected he was thinking about Chester and the album, about unfinished vocal tracks and drum loops. The band was in the thick of things now, and every thought Mike had about the album inevitably came back to Chester. It didn’t matter that Chester had been able to get away for a while and do his own creative work, find a different outlet. It hadn’t mattered in terms of Mike’s time and attention at home. He’d still been tethered to his bandmate and waiting for his calls, his texts, his contributions to their progress. Not that Anna was bitter, she was just tired. At least that part of what she’d said to Mike earlier had been true.

It was easy to see that even after Talinda had come into their lives, Chester had been so up and down for a while, clinging to Mike in a way that Anna could only describe as needy. She knew he’d been through another serious bout of depression, though Mike tried to shield her from it, and Chester’s last downhill slide had lasted almost a year. It was his solo project that seemed to bolster his energy and confidence again, and Anna had felt that she and Otis would be getting Mike’s attention back- but then he’d started on the upcoming album. As far as she could tell, this new album was a stressful mess, but Mike wasn’t sharing anything with her beyond the fact that it was a tough project. With no clues why, and no information forthcoming, Anna was a little bitter toward the band at the moment, and when she went down that path, her journey always ended at Chester’s feet. She was tired of being left out, tired of her lack of confidence in her place in MIke’s life. She didn’t know if she could spend her whole life being second to Linkin Park, to Chester. 

As Anna silently worried over the state of her marriage, Mike’s mind had already shifted away from disappointing his wife, landing on the last conversation he’d had with Chester before taking off for the week. It was less painful to think about where he stood with Chester than with Anna, and Chester was always a welcome distraction.

They’d been in his studio, working through harmonizations, bouncing ideas off each other, when Chester looked over at him from where he’d been doing crunches on the floor.

_”We’re in the zone right now, I can’t believe you’re taking off for a week.” He’d frowned at Mike, and Mike had felt the sting of Chester’s disappointment in his heart._

_“I know we’re in a good place. I just… I… fuck, Ches… I need the break, and Anna needs the break…” He’d trailed off, focusing back on the computer screen as Chester sat up to look at him closer._

_“Things okay with you guys?” Chester had asked, and Mike was quick to jump to assurances._

_“Yeah. Yeah, you know how it is… I just need a mental break from this. A week will be fine… besides, you and I… we can still talk every night.” Mike’s eyes had caught Chester’s as understanding flashed between them._

_“I’m sure that’s exactly what Anna has in mind for your evenings, you and I talking on the phone.” Chester had laughed suddenly, wiggling his eyebrows lewdly in Mike’s direction. “You’re going to have so much sex, Shinoda.”_

Mike squeezed his fingers around Anna’s again, looking over at her profile, her long hair tucked neatly behind one ear as she studied the road in front of them. He was going to be the best husband in the world this week, and not just this week, but when they got home. He could balance the album and Chester with time for his wife and his son. It was his constant struggle, to give enough of himself to the people around him, and he always ended up feeling inadequate. Everything was always so complicated.

_I can’t wait to get this one finished, get back out on the road. It will feel so good to get out there and play this stuff for the fans. Road life is so much… simpler._

Mike didn’t even feel guilty when he started longing for the next tour. His thoughts quickly shifted from guilt over his marriage to anticipation of going back on the road, where everything was determined for him- his schedule, where to eat, where to sleep every night. He didn’t have to plan, to drive, to think, really. It was easier than his ‘real life’ and a whole lot easier than marriage, and just like that, from thoughts of tour, Mike’s thoughts circled back around to Anna again. He spent the next half hour shifting wordlessly through all the mess in his head while holding Anna’s hand, each silent minute bringing them closer to their destination. 

The sun was just starting to dip behind a long line of trees when Mike pulled up to their home for the week, a secluded cabin in the mountains, rustic and quietly nestled away from day to day annoyances. It was perfect for the purpose of their week- time for just the two of them, no baby to fuss over, no schedules to keep, and most importantly in Anna’s eyes, no studios to retreat into. Even though Mike could feel the pull of the album, of deadlines, he also knew this was an important week for their marriage. He felt the undercurrent of discontent and it was his mission to make everything right before the new year. He knew he couldn’t keep neglecting his wife and expect that she’d be there when the album was completed. He needed her support and she needed his attention. This week was critical.

Inside was warm and cozy, an ideal romantic hideaway, and Mike knew he’d chosen this location well as he watched Anna move around the sitting area, trailing her fingers along the couch and looking at the stone around the fireplace, the exposed beams in the ceiling and all the woodwork in the cabin. It definitely looked like a place to lounge in pajamas all day, to drink wine in front of the fire, to read books and write and to make love passionately. Her eyes sparkled as he looked at him, still by the door, a suitcase in both hands.

“It’s perfect, Mike. And worth the wait.”

He knew she’d wanted to take this vacation months ago, but Mike had put it off until the holidays, knowing everyone would want a break to be with family. It didn’t make sense to take a break alone, and then another break for Christmas, when he could do it all at once. Practicality had won him over and he’d put her off once again, but now they were finally here.

Before they had even unpacked Anna had a glass of wine in her hand, moving about the small space and taking a sip every few minutes as she hummed lightly to herself. They moved around each other with the kind of ease that settles in after ten years together, arranging their things and making the space comfortable before Mike joined his wife on the sofa with his own glass of wine. Before long Anna’s feet were in his lap and he was rubbing his thumb down the arch of one foot as they talked about everything and nothing. It was late and they were on their second bottle of wine, Anna deep into a story about the book she was writing, when Mike saw his phone screen light up from where it was laying on the coffee table.

He glanced at Anna, whose head was back against a pillow on the arm of the couch as she talked, and then over to the phone, the glow of his lock screen silently beckoning him. _It’s Chester. I know it’s him, and I can’t answer._ He watched the phone until it went dark, the call having gone to voicemail, and he turned his attention back to Anna, unease settling in the pit of his stomach. It bothered him that he wanted to pick up the phone and answer Chester’s call more than he wanted to listen to Anna. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, and Mike didn’t even know how he’d allowed himself to fall so hard into that habit. No wonder Anna was frustrated with him. He was being a terrible partner to his wife while being everything for his best friend. It was chilling to suddenly recognize just how neglectful he had become to what was supposed to be the most important person in his life.

With renewed focus, Mike turned his energy back to Anna, rubbing her foot and her calf and listening attentively, pushing thoughts of Chester away. For another half hour they caught up on life, and everything had mellowed to a warm, hazy glow when Anna slid her wine glass onto the coffee table and stood up. She didn’t reach for Mike, but turned her wine warmed gaze in his direction.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said hopefully, but Mike merely nodded in her direction. 

He knew she wanted him to join her, but he had to text Chester first, just to let the vocalist know he was okay. Mike stubbornly pushed away the thought that he was already prioritizing Chester over his wife again, and looked up at Anna. “Why don’t you go warm it up- I’ll be there in a minute. Let me rinse out these glasses.” He took both wine glasses as he stood up, catching Anna’s happy smile as she turned toward the bedroom.

“Don’t take too long,” she called, as they moved in opposite directions.

As soon as Mike heard the shower running, he picked up his phone from the coffee table, his heart racing. He knew Chester would be anxious, wondering why he hadn’t picked up the call over an hour ago. Glancing over at the cracked bathroom door, Mike thumbed a quick text to his friend.

11:12 pm _Hey, can’t really talk tonight_

11:12 pm _Why?_ Mike could easily imagine the pout on Chester’s lips as he texted back immediately.

11:13 pm _Trying to give Anna my undivided attention. Apparently I’ve had work on the brain too much lately._ Mike looked over at the bathroom door again, listening to the water. It was still running. There was a pause, then he saw three little dots appear before Chester answered.

11:15 pm _You have been distracted._

Mike frowned as he looked at the text. _What’s that supposed to mean? Chester’s annoyed at me too?_

11:16 pm _You think I’m distracted?_

11:17 pm _Go enjoy your vacation. I’ll see you when you get back._

Mike’s heart sank as he read Chester’s text. It was so easy for him to disengage, to not worry or think about Mike, when Chester was always on Mike’s mind. While Chester had been out touring with Ryan it was all Mike could do to keep himself from following him around like a groupie. It was bad enough that he’d google searched Chester’s name every morning when he’d woken up, desperate to see what news there was of Chester and Dead By Sunrise in the press. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from pouring over the few photos there were, looking for something he couldn’t quite acknowledge, and even if he could have, he wouldn’t have understood what he was trying to find. Maybe he was looking for Chester’s happiness without him. Maybe he was keeping an eye on Ryan, looking to see that he knew his place in Chester’s life. Or maybe it was simply the deep yearning he felt for Chester to come back home that caused him to seek news every morning. Mike just wanted him home. Home to the studio, to Linkin Park, and to him.

Chester had called faithfully every night, and Mike felt like a teenager, waiting for his crush to call. He told himself over and over that their phone calls were _business_ but his heart still leapt in his ribcage whenever Chester’s name showed on his lock screen. This week, Mike had been expecting to return the calls, but now, between Anna’s voiced concerns and Chester’s last text, Mike knew the smart thing to do would be to turn the phone off and focus on his wife.

On his way into the bathroom, Mike tossed his phone on the dresser, neatly putting away his concern over how things were left with Chester while he stripped down and stepped into the steamy shower, sliding behind Anna and kissing her wet shoulder. The ache in his soul could be fixed in one of two ways, and Mike chose Anna, her wet slippery skin and wine-induced moans as he touched her stirring his own desire. 

While they kissed with the water all around them Mike let his mind empty of worries and commitments, focusing only on Anna’s body and her delicate hands caressing him lovingly. He emptied all thoughts of anything but how best to show her he loved her still more than he loved Chester, to forcibly remove that longing for his best friend. He pushed it all away because he knew he’d let the album become the excuse for giving Chester all of his time at the expense of taking care of his wife, and he wasn’t going to let it continue. He couldn’t. There were too many lives entangled in the mess he’d made to let Chester take over his mind. He couldn’t even entertain the possibility that Chester had already taken his heart. It wasn’t right, and it had to end.

Anna’s name was the only one on his heart as they came together in the shower that had turned lukewarm, Mike’s hands on her hips and her hands braced on the shower wall in front of her, her cheeks rosy pink with the unexpected thrill of the fast, almost desperate way Mike had taken her in the water. As they both caught their breath Anna reached to turn off the water, and Mike released her, both of them standing together on wobbly knees before Anna placed both hands on Mike’s wet chest and reached to kiss him gently.

“I’m gonna sleep so good tonight.” Her voice was lighter than it had been in days, and Mike smiled warmly back at her.

“Me, too.”

Cuddled closely together they slept off the wine without moving until Anna woke in the early morning, sliding out of Mike’s arms to step softly over to the bathroom. In the dim morning light though the window she smiled at her tangled hair in the mirror, remembering how they’d made love in the shower the night before and fallen asleep before she could even run a comb through her hair. Her heart was lighter than it had been in months, and it was only the beginning of a whole week of having Mike to herself. She ran a hand through the mess on her head as she climbed back in the bed, happy to have no plan for the day and the ability to sleep in with her husband. Maybe even some lazy good morning sex would happen. The thought was enough to send a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

As Anna slid back into bed, she heard Mike sigh in his sleep, and a soft smile spread over her lips. He was always adorable to her when he was sleepy, when his eyes were heavy and his voice raspy. Not wanting to wake him, she pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and cuddled up next to his side. She knew from his breathing that he was asleep, so it surprised her when she heard him speak.

“Ches,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Anna held her breath for a moment, waiting to see if he would say something else. In ten years of being together, she’d never heard Mike talk in his sleep before. She only waited seconds before he spoke again.

“I don’t… I’m sorry…” There was a long pause, then he breathed out, “come here.”

He was dreaming, she supposed, and talking to Chester. The man couldn’t stop working, even in his sleep. Anna thought about waking him, but he didn’t say anything more. It wouldn’t be worth it to bother him now, and besides, it was only a dream. She was on the winning end of things right now, and there was no way it would be her that brought up Chester’s name this week. Settling against Mike’s bare warm back, Anna kissed his shoulder blade before falling back to sleep.


	17. Part Two: ATS -- tokihanashite

[March 19, 2010]

The atmosphere of the studio was tense as Mike started the playback, everyone with their notepads and pens, waiting to hear what Mike had put together for today. Deadlines were nearing, and they didn’t have a final track list, and still hadn’t agreed on the first single. They didn’t have artwork. There were no promo pictures. Mike was the definition of overworked and stressed out. With the music industry changing, and the way people purchased music causing a rapid decline in the purchase of physical copies of albums, too much was riding on this release for it to not go well. 

Behind the console, Mike was adjusting volumes and clicking links, concentrating on arranging everything in the order he wanted it to play while everyone else fidgeted. Behind him he heard Rob tapping both hands on his thighs, the ever present rhythms in his head manifesting aloud. In front of him Joe paced back and forth in the space between the console and the glass wall of the vocal booth, occasionally looking at Brad, who had his head bent over his notepad already, meticulously writing track numbers in the left margin, skipping five lines between each. On the sofa across from the console Dave was absently stroking his goatee, staring off into space, and Chester had pulled a chair up close to Mike to watch the progress. Mike could smell his cologne as he clicked his mouse, everyone waiting for the speakers to come to life.

“This is… sort of the order I’m thinking right now,” Mike said, looking around the group. “It’s obviously not set in stone or anything, but I think there’s a nice flow to it this way.”

Chester settled back in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee, resting his notepad on his lap, and without being consciously aware that he did it, Mike copied Chester’s exact position as the playback started.

The sound of the first completed track started off subtly, and Brad was already furiously scratching notes onto his pad. _What the fuck does he already have to say about this? We’ve barely even gotten started._ Mike glanced around the circle. Everyone else was listening, and Joe was already smiling, nodding along with the track.

 _I’m actually nervous about this,_ Mike thought, right as his eyes met Chester’s. The warm smile from his best friend comforted him slightly, and he took a deep breath, feeling himself relax slightly as the music continued. By the time the ending track had played- a song he was certain Brad would like, since he was playing acoustic guitar on it- Mike was smiling and ready for the feedback. This was always a productive part of creating an album, the time when there was enough done to really hear the direction of things and they could dig in to making the small changes that would take a song from good to great.

There was silence for a few moments at the end, and Mike waited for everyone to put their pens down before he cleared his throat. “So… let’s do this the way we always do? One track at a time?”

Brad held up a hand and stopped Mike before anyone could agree. “You’re… viewing this as a concept album, is that what I’m getting here?”

An expression of confusion washed over Mike’s face. “Well… I… I don’t know. I mean, we talked about it some,” he gestured around at the other band members, “but we never really settled. I just sort of lined up what we had in an order that made sense to me.”

There was another pause before Brad said, “if you’re wanting a concept album, you know it really needs to feel like one long track. It should be the kind of thing you listen to start to finish, in the order we intend, not on shuffle or some shit. So there’s got to be more… interludes… bridges, or something, between songs.”

A heaviness settled in the group as Brad’s words were contemplated. It was Chester who finally added to the conversation. “Okay. We can talk about that. But what about the lyrics? You’ve been on our asses about the lyrics for months, let’s talk about those first.”

Mike watched as Chester and Brad sized each other up, and hurriedly interjected, “yeah, let’s go through a track at a time, and we’ll get back to the flow when we’re finished.”

There was a chorus of affirmative murmurs and Mike took it as his cue to start with the first track. An hour and a half later they had dissected every track, made a master list of notes and things to change, and Mike was feeling more than overwhelmed. He was frustrated and disappointed. _I really thought this was working, and now everyone wants rewrites, and then there’s Brad… it’s like I can never make him happy._

Mike decided to go ahead and address Brad’s need for linking tracks, despite having a long enough list of things to work on with the limited time he had left. “Well, Ches and I have plenty to work on this afternoon.” He looked down at the long list of notes in his hand, then over at Brad. “I need to know what are you looking for exactly with this idea of linking tracks. Are you thinking about vocal tracks? Instrumental tracks? I need some sort of direction to go, you can’t just ask for linking tracks and expect us to pull from nowhere.” Mike’s voice had a bit of edge to it and he leaned forward, tossing his notepad on the console before standing up to stretch his back.

From the corner of his eye he watched Chester watch him stretch, his gaze none too subtle. His breath caught as he felt Chester’s eyes on him, but refusing to look at the vocalist he instead looked over at Rob who was peering at Brad over his glasses. He was about to speak up and say that he had some drum stuff they might be able to use for these “linking tracks” when Brad stood up, hands on his hips. 

“I don’t know, Mike. Why don’t you throw some more crickets in there. It needs more crickets.” Brad threw his hands up in exasperation and Rob ducked his head down, avoiding the glare Mike was sending his direction. The crickets had been a joke- Rob’s joke. Suddenly it didn’t seem funny anymore. 

Chester turned his attention back to Brad as Mike dropped back into his chair, spinning around to the console and shoving his notepad aside to access his controls. 

“Alright. Alright, you want more crickets, I’ll give you more fuckin’ crickets.” Mike angrily clicked around for a moment, and Chester leaned over his shoulder to watch. Mike didn’t shrug him away as Chester’s chin hit his shoulder and stayed there, sharing the space behind the console. 

Brad’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the intimate way Chester’s body draped behind Mike’s as he worked. He hated the way the two of them always took the other’s side in band arguments. If the band was against Mike, Chester would side with Mike. If the band was against Chester, Mike would side with Chester. They were unbreakable, and it pissed Brad off to no end, just as it did right now. Chester didn’t have to say anything. His body language said he was along for whatever ride Mike was about to take them on, unfailingly on Mike’s side. 

One more click, and the speakers came to life, the sounds of crickets filling the air, along with the unmistakable sound of explosions, bombs going off in the background, sound effects that Mike had just added. Chester grinned and looked over at Brad as Mike huffed under his breath, “here’s your fuckin’ crickets.”

Joe fell to his side in laughter while Brad looked as though he was about to have a seizure. Even Rob was stifling a smile now, watching the challenge in Mike’s eyes and the smug grin on Chester’s face, his chin still resting on Mike’s shoulder. After eighteen seconds of bombs and crickets, the studio filled with silence as everyone waited for Brad to say something. 

“It’s perfect,” he said tightly, turning the challenge back around on Mike.

Everyone held their breath while Mike eyed Brad before finally saying, “I guess you’ve got one of your bridges, then, Delson.”

“Wait- don’t we all have to vote on this?” Dave said desperately, and all eyes turned on the bassist, leaving his protests to fade off quietly. “I mean, crickets are good.”

“It’s the explosives that really do it for me,” Chester teased, leaning his head into Mike’s for just a second before he sat back, squeezing the emcee’s shoulder. Mike glanced over his shoulder and winked at him, a half smile playing around his lips. 

“Is that what you’re looking for, Braddles? Explosions and insects? We can totally do more of that.” Chester dropped onto the sofa next to Dave and smiled at Mike. “We’ve got all afternoon blocked off in the studio.”

“Maybe you guys can try something different. Something electronic. Or even some of those unused drum tracks of mine,” Rob offered. “I don’t think we need an album full of explosions. It might send the wrong message.”

“What happened to those soundbites you had, Mike?” Joe asked. “Some of that stuff was good. The Martin Luther King speech could be a good intro into The Catalyst, if you do it right.”

“I can see that,” Dave added. “Do some of that vocoder magic of yours and add that to the start. Manipulate the voice and link it in. I think that’s interesting.”

“So we’re really going to do this as a concept album?” Mike asked, looking around.

“I trust you, Mike. Once you figure out how to link it all together, it will be bad ass. Different. And that’s what we’re trying to do, right? Something totally different?” Chester’s face was earnest as he looked around at his bandmates. “I can hear it, I understand the vision. Mikey, let’s tweak these lyrics and see what we can do with these bridges. I know you’ve got a ton of unfinished stuff on your computer.”

Mike nodded, the stress easing a bit. Chester wouldn’t leave him alone to figure it all out. Chester would be there all afternoon with him, re-writing and listening, mixing things up and digging for new ideas. They were partners, after all, and Chester wasn’t going to leave him to do it all on his own.

“Ok, Ches. Let’s grab lunch and get back to it. I’ll let you guys know if we need you back,” Mike added, and everyone stood at once, making their way to the exit as he smiled. “How about Chinese, you guys?”

After lunch it was just Mike and Chester back in the big studio. Chester hadn’t bothered to flip the light switch when they came back inside and the main room was dark, brooding and moody. He stretched out on the orange sofa with his phone in hand and reopened the game he’d started in the car while Mike sat down behind the computer. 

They each worked in silence for a while before Mike let out a frustrated breath and looked over at Chester, his eyes sliding over the vocalist’s stretched out form. Chester looked relaxed, the complete opposite of how Mike felt. He wanted to feel the same way. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d lounged anywhere casually, even at home. As he caught his gaze lingering over Chester’s stomach, he pulled his thoughts off the lithe body in front of him and firmly placed them back on the album.

“I don’t know what else we have that we can use to link these tracks together. Brad’s asking for a lot, these mini in-between tracks… I already added more crickets for him, which I think is fuckin’ weird, but whatever.” Mike continued to grumble under his breath as he clicked on random vocal and sound effect bits, waiting for some inspiration to strike. The hours at the console were adding up, and his muscles felt tight while he shrugged his shoulders in a circle, trying to relive the tension.

Chester was still sprawled over the orange sofa, phone in his hands as he continued his game. Even though he had been completely engrossed just seconds earlier, his attention was caught by Mike moving his shoulders in circles while playing snippets of tracks the band had never completed. Chester watched him listening and searching for a moment and his heart ached at Mike’s tension. He felt a sudden need to release that tension poking at his brain as he looked over the emcee, and compelled to do something about it, set his phone to the side and stood up, sliding into position behind Mike and placing his hands on the emcee’s shoulders. 

Mike didn’t even flinch. It was as though he’d been anticipating the contact and he drew in a deep shuddering breath, dropping his head forward toward the keyboard as Chester’s thumbs sunk into his shoulders. For a few moments Chester dug in, applying as much pressure as he could, before he murmured, “Jesus, Mike… you’re so… _tight_.”

He heard the hitch in Mike’s breath before he forced out, “keep going.” 

For several minutes, Chester worked on Mike’s shoulders, his fingers loosening the muscles little by little, and Mike’s eyes closed as he dropped his head closer over the console, his hands loosely folded in his lap. _Chester gives the best back rubs. It’s been way too long since he did this. When was the last time, anyway? God, it must have been the last tour._

Leaning forward a bit more, Mike’s mind drifted away from the current problems, concentrating on the way Chester’s hands felt on him as he was relieved of his stresses. _I miss this._ As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt Chester’s thumbs move up his neck, pressing into the tendons there the way Mike tried but failed to do when he was hurting. Something about his own hands never quite satisfied him, and now his thoughts zeroed in on the absolute pleasure of it all as he felt the soreness melt under Chester’s touch, smelled his familiar cologne and his body wash, listened to his soft breathing behind him, so close. Suddenly the air felt heavy, thick, weighted with all the unspoken words between them. Mike felt a different stress settle into his stomach as one of Chester’s fingertips barely brushed past his earlobe, igniting a spark he couldn’t ignore. 

All the years of repression, of setting aside the desire he’d felt for Chester since they first met, tingled under the surface of Mike’s skin, and he reached one hand behind him, suddenly stilling Chester’s fingertips that were moving toward his hair. The months of struggle for this album, the weeks spent apart, the problems with Anna, the jealousy he’d fought, it all hit Mike in a rush as he felt Chester there, so close, so warm, and so willing to please. There was only the sound of their breathing as Mike’s hand held still over Chester’s, waiting, thinking, evaluating his next move. _I don’t know what to do with this feeling. But I know I can’t do anything with this feeling._

“Ches?” he breathed, his voice strained.

“Hmmm?” Chester responded, leaning close behind Mike. He was so close Mike felt Chester’s breaths on his hand, the hand that had stilled Chester’s progress.

“I think… that’s good…” Mike struggled to normalize his voice but he heard the thick tones of arousal, cursing himself for being so transparent.

Chester wasn’t about to let up, and what Mike needed was a little bit of space. “Feeling better, Mikey?” he whispered in warm, gentle puffs of breaths against Mike’s skin.

One stray finger on the hand Mike wasn’t holding stroked lightly down his neck, and Mike closed his eyes against the wave of emotion he felt, fighting off the scary thoughts he had of turning and pulling Chester down into his lap and grabbing the vocalist’s face between both hands and-

His cell phone rang and Mike’s eyes popped open as the moment was abruptly shattered. As he fumbled for his phone he said, “yeah… yes! Better, thanks, Ches,” a nervous guilt hitting him as he saw Anna’s name on his lock screen and slid open the call. “Hey, honey… yeah, we’re still working… yeah… just… tired, I guess… no, don’t wait on for me for dinner… it will probably be late… yeah, me and Chester… of course… I’ll let you know when I head home… I love you too…”

When he hung up the phone Chester was back on the couch, eyes on his phone, and Mike stared at him for a moment, the flame of desire in his stomach still flickering. _I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t act on any of this, it isn’t right. Or fair to anyone. And Chester… he’s just very physically expressive. It doesn’t mean anything. I have to get something accomplished this evening, I have to figure something out. I have to get something done so we can go home before I do something I’ll regret._

Chester was the picture of calm and unaffected, playing his game, and Mike’s body and mind were swirling in turmoil as he played around on the computer some more. Occasionally Chester would add his input from the couch, but there was mostly silence between them as Mike worked. It was a dynamic they were both accustomed to, and Mike knew when he had something worth saying, Chester would be attentive. It was just a matter of coming up with the right thing.

The better part of another hour passed before Mike hit on an idea. “You know what could be interesting? Different?” Mike looked over at Chester with a cocked eyebrow. Chester was still distracted by his phone but raised both eyebrows in acknowledgement and silent question. “A bridge in Japanese. I’ve got this,” he clicked a track, an unfinished electronic loop with a heartbeat in the background, “that I could sing over. What do you think?”

With one last flick on the iPhone screen, Chester tossed his phone to the side and looked over at Mike. “What do you want to sing over that?”

Mike bit his lip. “I don’t know. We’ve used ‘let it go’ in a couple of the songs… or ‘let me go,’ or something like that… what if we pulled part of The Catalyst? Lift me up, let me go.”

That pulled Chester’s attention completely to Mike and he sat up, an intense look of concentrated thought on his face. “How do you say that in Japanese?”

The frown on Mike’s face was instant. “I’m not completely sure. I mean, I think I know… hold on.” He turned to his laptop and started typing, a crinkle of concentration appearing between his eyes. After a few moments he sat back and looked at Chester. “It’s _mochiagete, tokihanashite._ What do you think about that?”

They looked at each other for a moment before Chester finally said, “say it again.” 

The intensity on Mike’s face dissolved into a sudden grin. “Too much for you?”

“I just… there were a lot of syllables. Damn it, just say it again.” Chester was smiling back at him, but mildly frustrated at the same time. Languages rolled off of Mike’s tongue so effortlessly, and Chester didn’t share the same talent. He could make any number of accents and sound effects, but languages weren’t a particular strength. He hated having to ask Mike to repeat what he’d said.

Mike went slower, clearly pronouncing each syllable for the vocalist. “Moe-chi-ah-geh-tay.”

The deliberate slowness caused Chester to narrow his eyes at the emcee as he repeated the phrase. “Mochi-a-gete.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Mike said, “toe-key-hah-nah-sheh-tay.” A raised eyebrow waited for Chester to repeat after him.

“Toki-hana-shite.”

“That’s it. That’s the thing. Get your ass in that vocal booth, Bennington,” he commanded, tilting his head in the direction he wanted Chester to go. He looked up and winked at Chester’s surprised reaction.

“I thought _you_ were singing this,” the vocalist protested, even though he was already heading for the door, hiding the smile on his lips.

It was different from recording at Mike’s house- here they could see each other plainly through the glass, Mike at the console and Chester with his headphones. Even though they’d never admitted it out loud to each other, they both preferred recording this way. It was so much easier to read each others emotions without the wall between them, though they’d grown more adept over the years at recognizing each other’s breaths and vocal patterns. Mike opened a new file while he put on his headphones and looked at Chester through the glass, waiting for him to slip on his headphones before turning expectantly back to Mike.

“How do you want it, Mikey?” he asked, a flirtatious smile flitting across his lips, instantly bringing back the atmosphere that had surrounded his impromptu shoulder massage. He could see Mike in the dim glow of the studio’s twinkling white Christmas lights and the computer screens surrounding him.

Mike paused, looking at Chester closely before he answered, “I don’t know, Ches… give me whatever’s in that pretty little head of yours.”

Their eyes locked for a moment and Mike heard Chester breathe out slowly into the mic. A shiver of excitement ran down Mike’s spine as he waited to see what Chester would come up with- giving him free reign always ended up either really amazing or really terrible. He recorded every second of Chester trying different melodic snapshots of various songs with the Japanese phrases, but nothing seemed to be working for either of them. Nothing until Mike leaned forward and pressed a button, talking to Chester again. 

“Hey, Ches, what if you sang it on the same notes we use in The Catalyst, but slower? Kind of like the way I was pronouncing the words for you earlier. Really over doing it.” He looked at Chester and sang the bit of melodic material for him and Chester nodded, a look of serious concentration falling over his features.

“Okay, I’ve got it. How about this?” Chester tested out the line, and Mike shook his head.

“No. Again, make the syllables longer.” The third time seemed to be the winner, and Mike pressed the button to talk to Chester again. “Hey, Ches, what if I sing it too, underneath you? Like this?” Mike dropped the melody a minor third and sang it back to him, lingering on the words, “mochiagete, tokihanashite.”

“Yes, yes,” Chester approved enthusiastically. “Sing it with me, Mikey. Try it out.” 

From across the room, through the glass and the dim lighting, Chester’s eyes were undefinable, a dark abyss that Mike could feel himself falling into. Mike breathed a small sigh of relief as Chester’s eyes slid closed and he took a slow, deep, breath that Mike matched before they tried it out together, the glass wall, the safe space, and darkness between them.

As Mike watched Chester with his eyes closed softly and both hands over his headphones singing tenderly into the mic, he felt more than a tingle of electricity from the thrill of getting it right. Their voices melted together the way they so often did, matching soft sexiness, a touch of raspiness as the Japanese phrases rolled off their tongues. 

He watched Chester’s lips while they formed syllables he had been unfamiliar with twenty minutes ago as though he’d been speaking Japanese his entire life. And as his focus narrowed to Chester’s lips, his voice, the peace sliding over his face, Mike felt again the stirring of not just his soul, but something a little more as he gazed upon Chester’s face. He felt desire- pure, uninhibited desire- that started in the pit of his stomach and traveled outward in sharp spikes, up his constricting chest and down to his expanding dick, which responded by slowly pressing harder and harder against the seam of his jeans, and without thinking Mike used his hand under the console to shift himself into a more comfortable position. 

It was undeniable the effect Chester was having on him, an effect that started with the not so innocent shoulder massage and lingered in the air until now, reminding Mike of the moment they’d shared on stage months ago… that moment they’d shared singing together, the magic of a shared secret desire they hadn’t spoken of since. 

As far back as Mike could remember, he’d felt an attraction to the vocalist. It had been almost instantaneous at that first meeting, so many years ago, and over time he’d learned to set it aside and ignore the desire he felt, instead labeling it simply a strong bond between the two of them. 

It was impossible to call it just a bond now. It was more than that. They were woven into each other’s existence, a fabric knitted so tight that it was impossible at times to hear a difference in their vocals. 

“ _Fuck_ … Chester…” Mike breathed, his face feeling a little flushed. He took his finger off the button that connected them when Chester was behind the glass, knowing Chester couldn’t hear him, and took a couple of deep breaths. He was so hard he knew standing up would be a huge mistake, would out his feelings immediately, and there was nothing good that could come of Chester knowing how he felt. 

From inside the vocal booth, Chester’s eyes connected with Mike’s. “That was it, wasn’t it?”

Mike took another deep breath before he leaned forward and pressed the button. “I never knew Japanese could sound so… amazing. I mean… _fuck_ ,” he breathed. 

Amazing was the only word he could use. He couldn’t tell Chester how sexy his voice sounded, how their voices together turned him on beyond belief. He couldn’t say anything as he tried to force his body to calm down. He could only stare at Chester, lost in his eyes, in the thought of what it would be like to hear the vocalist saying his name in a completely different way than he’d ever said it before. He wanted to hear Chester say his name in the same voice he’d just used for those Japanese lyrics- that same breathiness, that sexiness that went straight to his groin. 

When he looked at Chester all he wanted was to press him up against the wall of that soundproof vocal booth and kiss his neck, taste his lips, feel those hands on his skin again, and he knew in that moment if Chester had made a clear indication that he wanted it, Mike would be in that room with him in a heartbeat. It was a thrilling and terrifying realization, but fortunately, Chester had never been good at being direct about his feelings. Mike ran his thoughts through everything he could think of other than his best friend, trying to force his erection down so he could stop hiding under the table. 

With their eyes still locked on each other, Chester watched Mike shift in the chair again, his lower half hidden by the desk, and Chester leaned forward to place his lips on the mic, whispering, “Mikey… I’ll sing Japanese for you every day if you’d like.” 

An involuntary groan escaped Mike’s lips and he shut his eyes for a moment, grateful that Chester couldn’t hear anything happening in the control room. It was too much, too much, and he thought about telling Chester to shut up before realizing he never wanted the other man to stop talking. All he could think to say instead was, “come on out and give your part a listen… then I’m going to get in there and record my part… and I think we’ll have a bridge into Meadowlands.” 

He watched as Chester hung up his headphones and headed back to meet him in the control room, praying that he’d find a little more self-control before he had to walk into that very same room and do his part. Right now all that mattered was making it through the rest of the night… he’d worry later about the tour, how he’d ever be able to perform those two phrases with Chester sharing the same stage.


	18. Part Two: ATS -- Close

[October 2010]

Something roused Mike slightly from a light sleep. He didn’t even open his eyes as his mind adjusted quickly to the feel of the plane in the air, recognizing that the sudden turbulence was to blame for awakening him. Chester’s hand was still in his. The vocalist had shifted in the seat to lean his head against Mike’s shoulder, and Mike could tell he was still asleep from the heaviness as Chester lay against him. 

Turning his cheek into Chester’s hair, Mike smiled faintly before almost immediately settling back to sleep. Just as he drifted off, the seatbelt light above their seats lit up and a chime sounded in the cabin. It was enough to snap Chester awake.

“Mikey?” he mumbled, squeezing the emcee’s hand as he lifted his head. 

“Shh, Ches, ’s okay,” Mike slurred back before he cleared his throat a bit, “just a bit of turbulence. Go back to sleep.” He felt Chester settle back next to him and he squeezed his hand back. “I’m right here.”

“I’m ready to be there,” Chester whispered.

Mike hesitated for just a moment before he agreed, “me too, Ches.” He was awake now, though he held still and let Chester fall back to sleep as he thought about the start of their next tour. There were just three South American dates and then they went to Europe, and Mike was excited about finally getting to enjoy all of the hard work that had gone in to the making of _A Thousand Suns_ and the subsequent planning of the set list and tours.

The day before the deadline for Linkin Park’s fourth album, Mike had breathed a sigh of relief when he and Joe walked down the steps of Warner Brothers Records. They had just dropped off all of the artwork for the album and met with their rep, and it was out of their hands. He clearly remembered the feeling- there would be no more changes, no second guesses, no turning back. 

“Man, that feels good!” Joe had exclaimed enthusiastically before he slapped Mike heartily on the back as they walked. “This one has been quite the process, you know?”

He remembered looking at the deejay like he was insane, turning wide eyes in Joe’s direction. “Are you serious right now?” he’d said before realizing Joe was messing with him. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, this really has been something else. I’m glad to have the hard part behind us.” 

“The hard part? I guess so… I’m thinking the hardest part might still be in front of us,” Joe had mumbled.

“What? No way anything left is gonna be harder than getting the six of us to agree on which tracks go on the album. Or harder than making it flow just the right way. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mike had shaken his head as though the idea of anything being harder than the making of A Thousands Suns was just absurd. 

_I should have known better,_ he thought ruefully as he shook the memory from his head and opened his eyes. Not wanting to wake Chester who had gone back to sleep next to him, he thought about how it had almost been impossible to agree on a set list. He’d lost a number of arguments as they planned things. There were so many elements in the upcoming shows that weren’t live, things Mike hadn’t really thought about until they started to rehearse. Eventually they managed to figure out how to produce some of it live, and Mike found himself remembering the rehearsal when Chester had cooked up an idea to finally get to play the drums. 

”You know, I’m gonna need, like, six arms to play all of this myself,” Rob had said as they all listened to the track again. “You’ve added stuff I wan’t actually playing at the time, Mike.”

That was all it had taken for Chester to practically leap up from where he’d been lounging against Mike’s legs on the floor. “I can help!” He’d exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to play drums. Oh, fuck, yeah!”

Nuzzling his cheek into Chester’s head, Mike smiled as he remembered the vocalist’s excited plea, and how the band had jumped on board immediately. Even Brad was relaxed enough to suggest he could play a part on drums for _When They Come For Me_ too. Those rehearsals had gone surprisingly well, and Mike could admit to himself that he was looking forward to watching Chester beat the hell out of his drums while he sang on stage. It would be far easier than singing _Jornada del Muerto_ was going to be, and just as quickly as the smile had graced Mike’s lips, it faded.

_I seriously still can’t believe I lost that argument. Nobody is even going to know what we’re saying, and I’ve got to try to get through that little snippet of song with Chester and not… think about him._

He shifted a bit in his seat, careful not to wake Chester. _I’ve been better since that day in the studio. I’ve haven’t crossed any lines. We took some time apart and everyone took vacations with their families, and it’s been fine. Hell, Anna’s even pregnant. We’re having another baby. A baby girl this time. Everything is just as it should be._ Mike closed his eyes, absently running his thumb over Chester’s hand as he thought about everything that had happened during the making of the album. Conceptually, it had been the hardest album they had created, and it wasn’t just the relationships in the band that had suffered. 

But things with the band and with Anna were better, and they were looking forward to the birth of a daughter by the end of the year. From the outside looking in, Mike was doing everything right. The album was finished, his wife was happily pregnant, and the tour was starting.

Why, then, did he feel so unsettled? It wasn’t performance anxiety, of that he was certain, and as he stroked over Chester’s hand, he allowed himself to worry about their relationship. Even though he knew he hadn’t crossed any lines, those lines were sure to get blurry while they were away from their families. If he wanted to be honest about everything, he knew those lines were already blurry.

He caught the way Brad looked at them when they worked side by side. It was extra hard work to keep the guitarist from suspecting the depth of his admiration for Chester. Brad knew him better than any of the other four guys, and Mike knew that there were plenty of times that Brad was jealous of his friendship with Chester. _Friendship. That’s exactly what it is, and nothing more than that. Ever. We have wives and kids, and I have one on the way. I’m doing everything right, everything Brad said I should want in my life._

But the line between friendship and emotional intimacy had been blurred long ago, and even as Mike tried to deny the depth of his relationship with Chester, he knew that their friendship was more, or at least it was to him. That was why he’d spent the last few days excitedly preparing to go to South America. It had been far too long since he and Chester had spent a night together, talking about everything and nothing. Far too long since they’d been immersed in tour life and everything that came with it, including the question Mike hadn’t yet found the courage to ask- would Chester be sleeping in his bed again? Or was that just the result of the depression Chester had been in during the last tour, a depression that had lifted somewhere between his time with Dead By Sunrise and the completion of _A Thousand Suns._

Mike let out a rush of breath he hadn’t known he was holding and opened his eyes again. He wasn’t sure he’d fall back asleep at all for the remainder of the flight. There were too many things on his mind, the longing for answers too great. It was difficult to admit that he wanted Chester to crawl into his bed as though years hadn’t passed since the last time they had slept together. _Almost three years since the last time. We’re practically different people than we were then. Maybe he won’t need me like that anymore. And I don’t think I can tell him how much I need him._

Picking up his phone in his free hand, Mike checked the time. A few hours of flight time remained, and there was no way his mind was going to stop picking through his secret worries. He glanced around the cabin at the rest of his sleeping bandmates and suddenly felt very alone inside his own mind. With Chester snuggled tight to his side and nothing else to do, he opened game on his phone and settled in to pass the time.

*****

Once they’d landed in Buenos Aires the day had been a hurricane of eating, travel, and rehearsal. By the time they made it to the hotel for the evening, Mike was exhausted, and Chester was ramped up.

“Must be nice to have so much energy,” Mike teased as Chester bounced around the lobby of the hotel, waiting for Mike to drag his suitcase along. “You’re so lucky that someone made sure you were comfortable enough to sleep on the flight here,” he added with a wink. 

“You always take care of me,” Chester said as his hips swayed a little to the lobby music. “I don’t know how I’d make it through these long ass flights without you.” His backpack moved with him as he danced before proclaiming, “this music is not good. They should be playing our stuff.”

Mike laughed as they made it to the elevator. “You know our stuff isn’t mainstream enough for that. Especially this last album.”

“This album is fuckin’ badass,” Chester declared as the doors opened and he sashayed inside. “Before you know it, it will be everywhere.”

Even though he seriously doubted that, Mike indulged Chester with a grin. “It did turn out pretty good. I’m excited to get back on stage tomorrow. It’s gonna be amazing live.” 

“Soundcheck was good,” Dave piped in as he slid in the elevator behind Mike, “but I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing you on drums, Chester. It’s like seeing Bourdie up front singing. It’s weird.” He was smiling as he talked, and Chester didn’t take offense to what he said. 

“One day we’ll get a mic in Bourdie’s hand,” Chester proclaimed, causing both Mike and Dave to laugh. It was as absurd as Brad yelling in Spanish through a megaphone… something Mike had never thought would happen until it did. 

“Good luck with that.” Dave smiled as he looked at Chester, then Mike. “You guys headed to bed? I don’t know about you, Mike, but I’m beat. Looks like Chester might be up a while.”

The energy radiating from the vocalist was almost tangible. Before Mike could speak, Chester answered for the both of them. “Mike looks like he’s about to fall asleep on his feet. I was thinking I might go squeeze a work out in before bed, wear myself out. I’m so awake right now I don’t think I’ll ever fall asleep tonight.”

Mike’s shoulders sagged a bit at Chester’s answer. He’d been thinking all afternoon about their quiet time together at the hotel, and now it seemed as though he’d be going to sleep alone. _Which is probably as it should be, I don’t know why I would have thought otherwise._

Still, when they entered their rooms, Mike unlocked the door that connected to Chester’s before he gathered his things to take a shower. He could hear the rustling of items from Chester’s room and knew that he was getting ready to head to work out, and it made his heart sink a little lower. _Pull yourself together, Shinoda,_ he ordered himself as he started the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. 

He’d kept the longer hair as they set out for this tour, a part of him thinking that maybe he could hide behind the bangs in his eyes on stage. Or maybe he’d just take to wearing sunglasses the way Chester did. Anything to hide his facial expressions, since he knew this tour would certainly be different than the last. Everyone had smartphones these days it seemed, and he wasn’t about to have his feelings for Chester broadcast on the internet for the world to see. The online world was evolving so quickly, and all it would take was some errant video of himself mesmerized by Chester on stage for the world to start speculating. Hiding under his shaggy hair seemed a good solution to a problem he wasn’t sure how he should handle, or if he even needed to. It just seemed smart to be cautious.

As he fluffed it back out of his eyes for a moment, Mike looked at himself piercingly before he stepped into the shower, wondering what Chester saw when he looked at him. Could he see the longing that lurked in Mike’s heart? It was terrifying to think that he might be that transparent. _But if I was,_ he argued with himself, _wouldn’t Chester have said something by now, even if it was just to tell me I was crazy? Surely I’ve learned how to hide it by now. Maybe the hair is enough. Maybe I don’t need sunglasses._

The water felt amazing after a fourteen hour flight and a full day of work, and Mike lingered longer than necessary, in no rush to climb into his empty bed. Standing directly under the shower head, Mike allowed the rush of hot water to fall around him, drowning out any other sounds that could have been coming from other places in the hotel. It was steamy and loud in his ears, rushing past as though he were standing in the middle of a waterfall. He allowed all of his worries to fade away as he stood in the water until it turned lukewarm, and he reluctantly stepped out. 

As he toweled off he criticized every part of his body, a self-shaming habit he’d started even in the days before the band. It was the main reason he never appeared shirtless in public and typically wore long sleeves. Even though he had started running and had thinned out from the early days of the band, he was still unhappy with his body in general and knew he should take Chester up on his offer of working out together. For some reason he had never gone ahead and tagged along, and tonight, he was really wishing he would have. It wasn’t to make himself look better necessarily, only another way to spend time with Chester. The toning of his mostly non-existent muscles would just be a bonus.

Slipping on his boxers, Mike chastised himself. He spent way too much time thinking of ways to spend more time with Chester, even as he knew he didn’t need an excuse. The excuses were just ways of pacifying himself, telling himself that nobody would suspect the true nature of his feelings. Excuses would throw people off the scent, if they were even sniffing around. All of a sudden, Mike realized he was acting paranoid. _Nobody knows or suspects anything. You have got to calm down before you turn it into something it’s not. So you love Chester. Everyone loves Chester. It’s not like you’re in love with him. Right, Mike? Because that would be crazy. That could never happen._

He was flipping channels on the tv from the comfort of the hotel bed, talking to himself and convincing himself that he was okay, when he heard Chester come back from working out. Immediately his mind went to a picture of Chester’s sweaty torso, the way he’d seen it hundreds of times up on stage, and he tried to forcefully shove it from his mind before his body responded to the image. The subsequent thought of Chester peeling off his workout gear to take a shower didn’t do him any favors, though, and as Mike listened to the sounds from the other room, he found himself lazily stroking his own dick under the sheets. 

He allowed himself a moment’s indulgence in the thought of Chester naked in the other room, and his eyes closed, picturing it all in his head and hearing Chester’s voice in his mind. He drifted back to the day in the studio months ago that they recorded _Jornado del Muerto_ together, the sexy undertone in Chester’s voice and the way his body had responded. It surprised him how hard he was already as his grip on the remote slackened and his other hand picked up the pace. It wasn’t like he was hard up at the moment, hadn’t gotten off recently, or was so horny he couldn’t control himself. But being back in Chester’s presence so intimately was doing this to him, making him think about things he shouldn’t. He wanted to stop, but in the space of that same thought, he wanted to keep going. There was no stilling the hand that was bringing him closer to the edge as he remembered the way Chester’s eyes looked in the darkness of the studio that day.

Before he knew it, Mike had let his thoughts stray enough to allow himself to think of kissing Chester, of what his lips might feel like, of what their bodies might feel like pressed together, and he felt the familiar tightening in his groin as the next thought slammed into him almost immediately - _I’m going to come thinking about him._

With a soft groan his stilled his hand and tried to catch his breath. _I can’t. I can’t do this, not with him so close. Not with the door unlocked._ Mike froze for a moment and listened, not able to hear the shower in the next room, and wondered how long he’d been lost in thoughts of Chester while pleasuring himself. _God, what if he’d walked in while you were doing that?_ He knew Chester would have laughed it off, not knowing that he was the person on Mike’s mind, but would Mike have had enough control to stop right then, with the object of his desire so close? 

Mike sat up in the bed, taking a few deep breaths, his eyes turned toward the connecting door. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just lay there all worked up. What if Chester came to him? Though it was a small chance that the vocalist would show up and want to sleep there, given they hadn’t discussed it at all, Mike doubted he’d be able to act normal if Chester crawled into his bed that night. There was no choice left but to finish the act in the bathroom, as depressing as that felt, in hopes of pretending everything was just fine if Chester did want to sleep there. 

Even as he tried to think of something else, it only took a few minutes alone in the bathroom with his thoughts of Chester for Mike to give into the shuddering orgasm. As he wiped himself down with the towel, the guilt flooded in, exacerbated by the fact that he was still coming down from the high when he heard Chester’s voice from the bedroom.

“Mike? You in here?” 

Scrambling to pull himself together, Mike called through the closed door, “yeah, in the bathroom. I’ll be right out.” _Fuck, that was close. Too fucking close. I can’t believe I just jerked off while thinking about him. God, I am a fucking wreck._ With a glance down at his boxers and then in the mirror at his damp hair, Mike tossed the soiled towel in the corner of the bathroom and stepped out, taking a deep breath.

That breath froze in his lungs as his eyes landed on the sight of Chester snuggled under the covers of his bed, the blankets pulled all the way up to his chin. “Ches? What are you doing?” he asked, taking a step closer to the bed.

For a moment the smile on Chester’s face faltered as he considered Mike’s question. Was this not okay anymore? Had everything changed since the last tour? Chester didn’t want to tell Mike just how much he’d been looking forward to coming back on tour, just to sleep next to him again. It was comforting and warm and safe, and it was exactly what Chester needed when he was away from home. The only place he wanted to get that comfort was from Mike. “Well, um…” he started before he pushed up on one elbow. “I know we didn’t talk about it, but… I just thought… maybe this was still okay? Like last time?” Chester’s question hung in the air as they looked at each other. 

Mike exhaled long and low as he looked at Chester in his bed, his heart dancing a bit at the thought that Chester wanted to be there too. Maybe not in the same way that Mike wanted him there, but he was there, and that was enough. “Of course it’s okay, Ches,” he breathed before he stopped and cocked his head to the side. “I mean, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with this, do you?” Mike couldn’t help himself for asking such a question, even though he was afraid of the answer.

There was silence for a moment before Chester spoke. “I know that I sleep better on tour when I’m with you, Mike. I know that you keep me sane when we’re away from home.” His eyes darted down to the blanket and he picked at non-existent fuzz as he continued. “I know Anna and Talinda probably wouldn’t understand this. But… they don’t have to know about it, Mike. It can just be our secret. Only ours.”

At the word ‘secret’ Mike’s stomach took a turn. Secrets didn’t make happy marriages, but already there were so many things from years past that both men had kept from their wives, sometimes unintentionally. As he looked at Chester’s big brown eyes, he knew that encouraging this sleeping habit was wrong, but just like pleasuring himself before, he couldn’t stop. He was drawn to the bed like a moth to a flame, and before he could make himself change his mind, he was climbing into bed next to Chester, pulling the blanket up to cover his naked torso. 

He felt the relief showing from the smile on Chester’s face, and they lay facing each other, an arm’s length of space between them as they lay on their sides. “I’ve missed this,” Mike admitted, mentally kicking himself for sounding so vulnerable.

“Me too,” Chester whispered as his hand snaked out to meet Mike’s in the space between them. “It’s not wrong for us to be here, Mike,” he murmured, reading Mike’s thoughts. “We haven’t crossed any lines.”

Mike blinked at him, wondering if Chester meant what he thought he meant. 

“You’re my best friend,” he continued. “They know that, Tal and Anna. They know we’re close. It’s okay for us to be here.”

It was the first time they had admitted to each other than sleeping in the same bed was wrong, even as they were trying to justify their actions. Mike closed his eyes, desperately trying to shield his heart from Chester’s prying eyes. Nothing good would come from telling him, Mike reminded himself firmly, and nothing good would come of him finding out on his own. _This is as close as we can be, even if he wants this too._

The thought that Chester might want him too was new and shocking to Mike, but it seemed as though that was what he was trying to say. Long seconds passed before Mike whispered back, “yeah. This is okay. You and me. We’re okay.”

He rolled over and clicked off the lamp and tv before settling back down in the bed. Mike felt the hesitation in the air before Chester scooted closer, his fuzzy black plaid pajamas soft against Mike’s skin. With his heart racing, Mike tried to keep himself calm. They were going to be okay, there was no question whether or not they would be sleeping together for the rest of the tour. That question was answered and out of the way. It was a relief, even as doubt over whether of not their choice was a good one flitted through the back of his mind.

“Good night, Mikey.” 

Discussion of the subject was clearly closed for the evening, and Mike didn’t mind. With a soft sigh, he put his arm around Chester as he turned into the warmth of the other man’s body and whispered, “‘night, Ches.”


	19. Part Two: ATS -- Sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When I wrote Confession I wasn’t sure if Mike’s girls were twins, so I didn’t write my story that way. In the months since, I’ve discovered enough that I think they pretty definitively are, but it’s too late to go back and change chapters in that story, so for the sake of the fictional continuity, I left it alone, with Otis, Abi, and Jo being separate births. Sorry if that’s confusing. Please forgive my research fail.

[March 3, 2011]

Mike wasn’t ready to go home. The morning of the Houston show, he and Chester had woken up tangled together in bed, both dreading the three months they’d be spending away from each other after falling so completely and comfortably into a routine the past five. It hadn’t come up again, the question of whether sleeping together was right or wrong. They simply hadn’t spoken of it again, having made a decision to keep their sleeping arrangements between them. 

Abigail had been born over the Christmas break, and Mike had become a father for the second time. Her tiny newborn face looked more like Anna than Otis had, and Mike loved watching her sleep, holding her close in arms that denied they longed for Chester’s weight at night. Between feedings and diapering, and playing with Otis, he finished painting his baby girl’s room in soft shades of purple and green, a meadow of flowers and butterflies. The four weeks at home had gone by in a whirlwind of holidays, newborn activities, and then Mike was back out on the road, back in Chester’s arms, before he even really knew his daughter, before he settled back into the routine of home.

It was a scary thought now, going home to a routine that had been established without him, and it reminded him of coming home from tour when Otis was just months old. _This is just my life, the way it’s going to be, the way Chester said it would be… my kids growing up without seeing me every day. Learning and changing and becoming their own little people without my guidance. Being disappointed that I’m not around. Maybe someday, when they’re older, they’ll understand._

Without realizing it, Mike had pulled Chester closer into him as he thought about going home. The vocalist was still asleep, his breathing deep and regular, as sadness washed over Mike. He loved his children, and he loved Anna, but he couldn’t help the guilt he felt when he stopped to think about his role in their lives. He was gone so much, was it really fair to them? 

What if, back when Chester had joined the band, he hadn’t been with Sam? It was a road Mike had allowed himself to travel down so many times in his secret thoughts, and it never got easier. If anything, as the years passed, the thought of what might have been became harder and harder to stomach. He tried to stay in the present, to appreciate what he had, but it was becoming increasingly harder to stay focused, and for some reason, touring this album had intensified that feeling of discontent.

The beginning of the tour cycle had been as stressful as the making of the album, something Mike really hadn’t anticipated. All of the electronic elements made timing a bitch, and the frustration levels between all the guys had been high as they worked through the first live shows together. Mike had been particularly stressed, sliding sunglasses on every show, even at night, hoping to disguise the simmering emotions he felt as he navigated the new songs with Chester. 

There was something about watching Chester bang the hell out of the drums that had crawled under Mike’s skin and stayed there, demanding attention every time they played _When They Come For Me_. It was in the way Chester approached his part, his focused, driven determination, the way the muscles in his forearms rippled and moved as he went for it, not holding anything back. It was the strain in his neck, veins popping, as he sang. It was almost enough of a distraction to cause Mike to stumble over his rapping, and the leading cause of some of the early timing issues. 

The image of Chester behind drums had accompanied Mike in the shower more times than he wanted to admit lately. Jerking off in the solitude and concealing white noise of the warm water had become the only way he’d allow himself to let go with Chester so close. Combining the long tour with his secret lust for his bandmate was dangerous. The images were burned into his memory and he turned them over and over in his mind as he pleasured himself, feeling guilty every time. He’d had to learn to look away on stage, to stop watching Chester during that song, if he was going to get all the words right.

But the one song he couldn’t look away during, the one Chester sought his eyes on, and that was their Japanese interlude. Mike silently cursed every time _Jornada del Muerto_ came up, grateful for the shield of his keyboard and the distance it provided between him and the vocalist. Every time they sang it felt as beautiful and intimate as when they’d discovered it in the studio, and the sound of Chester’s voice sliding across his own haunted Mike in his dreams. His dreams had been full of Chester lately, and as Mike lay there with the object of his desire snuggled tight against him, he dreaded going home.

Everything about home was normal, and everything about being with Chester out on tour was anything _but_ normal. It was as though Mike were two different people; the Mike that Anna knew - the loving, loyal husband and father, a strong provider, rational and deliberate, the leader of their little family; and the Mike that Chester knew - the creative, sensitive, misunderstood artist who was in love and shared a bed with his best friend, who went out of his way to cater to that best friend’s needs, and who could barely conceal the depths of his emotions anymore. It was all a huge mess and the further Mike traveled along the road he’d created for himself, the road the public eye saw, the image that was Mike Shinoda, the harder it seemed to live that life. It wasn’t a lie, but he’d started to admit to himself that it wasn’t what he wanted, and this tour had brought all of those feelings to the forefront. They were screaming for attention.

“Morning, Mikey,” Chester’s whisper brought Mike back to the present, back to the warm, safe, secret cocoon he and Chester created every night. Mike wanted nothing more than to stay in that secret cocoon forever.

“Hey,” he whispered back, “how’d you sleep?” His hand petted gently down Chester’s side and he felt Chester stretch before he turned and faced Mike, deep brown eyes sleepy and unfocused.

“I was fine, mostly. You were more restless than usual,” Chester commented, closing his eyes and yawning. 

“Sorry if I kept you awake. You could have kicked me or something,” Mike apologized. “I’m just anxious about going home. Same as always.” 

“Yeah, it’s hard to go from the adoration of thousands of screaming fans to ‘honey, can you take the trash out?’ Or in your case, ‘your turn to change that diaper.’” Chester smiled as he opened his eyes and looked at Mike. “It’s always like this, you know. It will be fine.” 

Mike nodded, looking away from Chester to a spot on the wall opposite the bed. “It’s more than that, Ches. You know. We’ve talked about it before.”

They were silent for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts, before Chester murmured, “who would have ever thought it would be so hard to be away from each other? And it’s not just because of this,” he stroked his hand over the sheets in the small space that had opened between them when he rolled over. “I miss having you to myself. Well, all to me and the guys. But mostly me.”

“It’s different, for sure,” Mike mumbled, his voice tight. “It takes a few days getting used to it.” He sat up in the bed, leaning over to grab his glasses. “We’ve got one more night, better make the best of it.” Turning to look at Chester as he slid his glasses on, Mike caught a look in Chester’s eyes he’d seen on stage before. When they performed he passed it off as crowd excitement, arousal brought on by performance. But now… what was that look now, when Mike was bare chested, his hair sleep tousled, and Chester was relaxed next to him in his fuzzy pajamas? It couldn’t be explained away as performance related, and Mike cleared his throat nervously. 

They looked at each other for a minute longer before Chester slid out from under the sheets, swiping his glasses from the table as he made his way toward the door to his room. “C’mon, we should get dressed, get packed… you know the flight is early in the morning and you won’t want to wake up early to do it then.” He didn’t look back as he disappeared, leaving Mike sitting in the bed alone.

For another moment he sat there, his mind darting around before he hauled himself up and went to the bathroom to splash water on his face. It was going to be a long day.

*****

Rob and Brad sat across from each other in the dressing room, Rob warming up on a practice pad, and Brad messing around on an acoustic guitar. All around was standard pre-show controlled chaos - everyone getting dressed, Joe and Dave’s last minute snacks, Chester bellowing out vocal nonsense. Mike was quieter than usual, and Brad was quick to notice that he seemed off as he was selecting his clothing. He kept up his strumming but watched Mike carefully for a few more minutes before he set the guitar down and went to talk to the emcee. 

Brad stood beside Mike for a few moments before he finally turned, looking at him with annoyance as he moved to roll up the sleeves of his plaid shirt. “What’s up, Brad?” 

Reaching for Mike’s cuff, Brad’s long fingers rolled one sleeve as he said, “you look distracted. Everything okay?” He switched to the other arm and Mike let him, watching as the job was completed quickly.

“Yeah. Just thinking about going home. Anna and the baby, and all that. Just anxious, that’s all. I’ll be fine tonight,” he added, knowing that Brad worried more about their public appearances than even he did.

Shaking his head, Brad smoothed the front of Mike’s shirt and looked at him. “I’m not worried about the set, you’re always fine on stage. You just look like you need a hug or something.” 

Mike chuckled lightly and slung his arm around Brad’s shoulders. “Probably. I just know Anna’s got along without me these past months, so fitting back into her life with the kids is always awkward.” He squeezed Brad’s boney shoulder before he stepped back, dropping his arm. “You know how that is.”

Brad looked at him with a touch of confusion. “I guess… I don’t know, I never worry about going home. I love being home. But I can understand how you miss the spotlight. That’s just not the place for me. Being home is going back to being a regular guy. I’m just a regular guy, anyway, so no big deal.”

It was Mike’s turn to look confused as he pondered Brad’s words. _Is something wrong with me that I don’t want to go home? Do the other guys feel the way Brad does?_ He looked around the room, at Dave and Joe bickering over healthy pre-show snack choices, at Rob in his own world drumming away, and then his eyes stopped on Chester. _Chester understands me. He doesn’t want to go home either._

“Mike?” 

Mike’s attention snapped back to Brad, who was looking between him and Chester. “Yeah?”

“All I meant was I don’t really miss the attention of being on stage. You and Chester soak up all of that anyway. The rest of us are doing our job and you guys keep the spotlight off us. I don’t think I could do it if I were in your role. I don’t want to put myself out there like that. It’s easier to let you two do it for us.” Brad winked and smiled. “I’m just trying to say, I get it. It’s hard to go home when you’re used to being Mike fuckin’ Shinoda. At home, you’re a husband and a dad. I know that’s hard for you.”

“Jesus, you make me sound like a prick,” Mike grumbled, looking back at Chester, who had moved out into the hallway and was singing at the top of his lungs while jumping rope. “I don’t always have to be recognized. It’s okay to go home and be normal. It’s just a hard transition. I feel like I just get in Anna’s way, change up her routine.” 

“You know she’s always happy to see you. She’s a good woman.” Brad looked in the mirror, fluffing his hair a bit and fussing with the headphones that were draped over his neck as they waited to go on stage. “She’s probably at home right now watching youTube videos of you.”

With surprise evident across his face, Mike gaped at Brad. “You think?”

“Sure, why not? Elisa says she watches them on occasion. I’m sure all the wives do. So what? You’re acting weird, Mike.” Brad furrowed his eyes in confusion at Mike’s obvious distress.

Mike had considered the videos before, which was why he’d taken to wearing sunglasses on stage. But to hear Brad mention it so casually turned his stomach a little bit. He didn’t want to think about Anna watching his interactions with Chester, which in itself was a huge red flag that something was amiss, that they were toeing too closely to the line that separated their friendship from something more. He blinked a few times and saw Brad still looking at him curiously. “I just never thought of that,” he lied, pushing past Brad and walking toward the table of food. 

Brad just looked after him, wondering what was really on Mike’s mind. It was more than the typical re-entry anxiety he knew his friend suffered from, but he didn’t know what it was, and that bothered him. Mike had seemed more and more secretive the past few months. With a last glance in the mirror, he sighed, and went back to wait on the couch for their signal to go to the stage. If Mike wasn’t going to talk now, he’d have to worry about it later. Right now, they had a job to do.

*****

Mike was grateful for the sunglasses, closing his eyes and soaking up Chester’s voice inside his as they sang his favorite song off the new album.

_Sitting in an empty room_   
_Tryin’ to forget the past_   
_This was never meant to last_   
_I wish it wasn’t so_

He felt Chester move around him, from one side to the other, and he kept his eyes closed, concentrating on matching his backing vocals perfectly to whereever Chester landed pitch-wise. His voice wasn’t one hundred percent recovered from the illness he’d suffered last month, and there were occasional adjustments to make, but Mike didn’t mind. It was something else to concentrate on other than the way their voices slipped and slid and penetrated each other, making love through music. Every song on the album felt that way… even when Chester was screaming, Mike felt the intimacy in the lyrics, the intimacy that had been woven in from the long nights in the studio together and the nightly phone conversations when they were apart, and the shared struggle of creating. 

Mike kept the sunglasses on from his perch behind Chester, allowing himself to watch the vocalist’s drum playing tonight since he wouldn’t see it again for months. He felt his jeans pull and tighten against his arousal and he wondered somewhere in all his rapping and singing if Chester got off on playing the drums as much as Mike did watching him. 

As they brushed against each other in passing, as their hands reached for fleeting caresses and they smiled at each other, the alarm bells were ringing in Mike’s head. There were so many things they did on stage that could be misinterpreted by their wives, and Mike didn’t want to have to defend their actions. Everyone else in the band, and the crew included, wrote their flirtatious nature off, laughing and teasing them about their familiarity. But… what would Anna and Talinda have to say? 

The thoughts planted in his mind by Brad’s casual comment plagued him until Chester slid into his bed and right into his arms later that night, the last night they would spend together until June. Chester could feel the tension as soon as Mike slid an arm around him and waited, the rise and fall of Mike’s breathing against his back faster than it should be. 

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” he finally asked.

“Brad just put some stupid shit in my head before the show this afternoon,” Mike said, his forehead against the back of Chester’s head as they lay together in the darkness. He heard Chester’s low laugh and he smiled too, the sound of Chester’s amusement instantly lifting his spirits.

“He’s good like that,” Chester said, his voice light. “What’s he bitching about now?”

“He’s not bitching, he just mentioned something about videos and our wives watching them, and I started thinking about that, and wondering if… wondering what they would think about our shows.”

Chester thought it over for a minute before he said, “they’ve seen us live before, what difference would video make?”

Mike sighed. “ I don’t know. I just feel like sometimes we get a little… carried away… and I don’t want to give them the wrong idea. About us,” he clarified carefully, acutely aware that he was laying cuddled up to his best friend in a dark hotel room, fifteen hundred miles away from their wives, secreted away from their bandmates, and there was really nothing stopping him from kissing the back of Chester’s neck right at that moment. Nothing except loyalty to his wife, and the old nonsense Brad had put in his head that being in a relationship with a man was wrong. 

“The fans love how we are together,” Chester responded in a small voice, and Mike recognized the underlying tone of fear in his words.

“I’m not saying we should change anything, Ches,” Mike said hurriedly, squeezing his arm quickly. “I just wonder what it looks like to them, you know?”

“Talinda doesn’t care, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chester said in a rush, as though he couldn’t believe he was saying it aloud. “She knows how you help me, keep me safe and sane on these tours… she always says how grateful she is that I have you.”

It was news to Mike, and he lay there in surprise for a few moments. He couldn’t say that Anna felt the same way; in fact, Anna seemed jealous of Chester at times, and he didn’t want to hurt Chester’s feelings. “You do have me, and I’m glad I can help,” Mike answered instead. “I just don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression about us.” He closed his eyes tightly, hating every word that was coming out of his mouth. “It’s like you said months ago, if they knew about this, about us sleeping together, they wouldn’t understand.” 

“What difference does it make? We sleep together on the plane. We’ve slept on the couch in the tour bus hundreds of times. We used to sleep together back when we were just getting started, remember that? We’d get one hotel room, two double beds, and fight over who slept where?” 

Chester laughed suddenly, and Mike giggled as well. “Yeah, I remember that. Joe and Dave would always end up on the pull out or the floor, and Brad would complain about Rob’s fat ass taking up the whole bed. And then there was us.” He squeezed Chester’s arm again, this time letting his hand stay where it was. “We never complained, did we? It’s like it’s always been this way.”

“Yeah… see? It’s always been this way for us. No big deal. Quit letting Brad inside your head, nothing good ever comes of that.” Chester pulled an extra pillow in front of him, wrapping his arms around it and settling in for the night. “Mikey, you worry too much.”

It was the understatement of all time, and Mike couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I know, Ches. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow morning will be here soon enough.” 

As usual, Chester was asleep before Mike could even shut off his mind, and he lay in the darkness, listening and then matching his own breaths to Chester’s. He could feel the edges of sleep starting to close in on him and gave himself over to it willingly, trying not to worry about things that he couldn’t control. He couldn’t control who took videos and posted them online, and he couldn’t control what other people thought about them. Little did he know he also couldn’t control himself in the grips of his dreams, and later that night was the first night Chester heard him talking in his sleep.

He’d gotten up to use the bathroom and was climbing back into the bed next to Mike when the emcee said, “I don’t know.”

Chester paused, the blanket in his hand, and whispered, “what?” He waited a moment before he realized that Mike wasn’t going to respond to him, that he was sleeping. Chester grinned as he lay down, turning to face Mike in the bed instead of sliding next to him. He was curious if anything else would be said.

He didn’t have to wait long, and he listened to Mike mumble a few more phrases to himself. It sounded like he was talking to Anna in his sleep, and Chester shook his head, reaching over to rub his hand down Mike’s back, trying to soothe him back into rest. Mike could never just shut his mind off completely, and it sounded as though he were trying to convince Anna of something in his dream. 

At the touch of Chester’s hand on his back, though, something changed, and he relaxed again, his breathing smoothing out and becoming deep and regular, and Chester smiled. He’d helped, and the thought warmed his heart. They had just talked before bed about how Mike helped _him_ out on tour, and now here was Chester, getting the opportunity to reciprocate. It pleased him immensely, and Chester kept his hand on Mike’s warm back as sleep came again and dragged him under, too. 

He didn’t hear the last thing Mike said that night. Chester was already back asleep when Mike whispered, his voice slow and sleepy, “love you, Ches.”


	20. Part Two: ATS -- Balance

[March 20, 2011]

“Good morning, baby girl,” Mike crooned softly as he lifted Abi from her crib. She’d just started fussing when he opened the door to the nursery, and Mike had picked her up right before the whimpers became full out cries. “Come here, Abba girl. It’s okay, Papa’s got you.”

With her slight weight in her arms, Mike turned his nose into the soft, dark hair curling around Abi’s ear and breathed in deeply. It was baby powder and sleep, comfort and warmth, and love, Mike decided, and he kissed her hair before he laid her down on the changing table.

He sang softly as he changed her diaper, smiling as her dark eyes latched onto his face. They were still getting to know each other, and Mike wondered, as Abi contemplated his features, if she recognized his voice at all. He hadn’t even been around before she was born for her to learn his voice, and the guilt he felt over his continued absence had sunk into every aspect of his life with Abi so far. If he hadn’t spent so much time in the past week focusing on what he perceived as failures, he might have noticed how the sound of his voice soothed his daughter immediately when he was around. 

Abi grabbed at his fingers and Mike stared at how her tiny fist wrapped around his thumb, his heart expanding in awe as he looked at her. _I still can’t believe I have a daughter now._ He wanted to give her everything, protect her at all costs, be someone she could look up to and admire. _I want her and Otis to love me… they deserve a father who is around more._ He sighed as he lifted Abi to his shoulder, cradling her against his neck as he flipped off the light and headed toward the stairs. _They all deserve better than me. Anna deserves someone who can be here, and not just physically. I’m such a mess._

The two weeks they’d been home from tour had put a lot of things into perspective for Mike. He missed Chester more than he could admit, and without an album to work on, they hadn’t spent much time together since they’d come home. Text messages and phone calls were all he was living on at the moment, and Mike reminded himself daily that he had a wife and family to focus on, everything else was less important. Chester had to come second when he was at home.

Sadness crept over Mike then, as he thought about how he was caught between two worlds. Home and family. Work and Chester.

Until tonight. It was Chester’s thirty-fifth birthday, and Talinda was having a small get-together at their home for a small circle of Chester’s friends. It was one of the ways his worlds collided, and he cherished those moments that he got to have it all. With his spirits uplifted, Mike came into the kitchen, catching Otis’ gaze immediately.

“Papa!” He exclaimed, his three-year old face beaming with excitement. 

“Morning, O!” Still holding the baby, Mike leaned over and kissed the top of Otis’ head before coming around the bar toward the bottle warmer. Anna was frying bacon and it smelled amazing, and there was a stack of pancakes already ready for him. She was super mom, and Mike felt the love in her breakfast prep for all three of them. 

“Morning, honey.” With a quick kiss to Anna’s cheek, Mike reached for the bottle Anna had already prepared for him. “Thanks for getting this ready,” he said, nodding toward to the bottle. 

“I’ll have bacon ready in a minute, too,” she replied, glancing his direction. Her gaze fell on Abi, snuggled to Mike’s chest, and Anna leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Morning, lovebug.” 

As Otis finished his pancake and Mike fed Abi, Anna chatted away about the day’s plans. Mike was watching his daughter with her bottle, her eyes staring into his without judgement, and trying to listen to what Anna was saying to him in between Otis’ little outbursts of chatter, adding “okay” and “mm-hmm” at the appropriate times. His head snapped up when Anna mentioned going to the Bennington’s early.

“Early?” Mike questioned, looking up from Abi and to Anna with his forehead crinkled in confusion. “Why do we need to go early?”

“I promised Tal I’d help her with the food.” Anna shrugged as she placed cooked bacon on a paper towel to catch the grease. Without even looking in Mike’s direction, she went on, “my parents were fine coming early to stay with the kids. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. You and Chester always have things to talk about without us.” 

Mike could swear that Anna was avoiding eye contact as she spoke. He watched her for a few seconds, carefully laying out each piece of bacon with her long fork, wondering if he was just imagining the implications in her words. Finally, he said, “yeah, we haven’t seen each other since we got home.”

Anna’s shoulders tensed up for a moment before she turned, bringing the plate of bacon to the table where Mike and the kids were sitting. She put the plate down in front of him and threaded a hand through his hair, gently caressing over his scalp and tilting his head back so she could lean over and kiss him. 

Both of Mike’s hands were occupied with the baby - holding the bottle in one hand and Abi in the other arm - but Anna didn’t seem to mind as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, running her tongue over the soft flesh, and pressing her hand into the back of his head. It was a possessive kiss, a marking of territory, and Mike recognized it for exactly what it was, even as it caused a stir of arousal in his stomach. _If that’s not a way to remind me who I belong to, I don’t know what would be…_ He was a little bit breathless as she released him, her eyes glittering with triumph at the look on his face.

“You’ve been busy since you got home. With this life. _Our_ life,” she emphasized, looking down at Abi. “And I’m glad of it. I miss you too much when you’re away. It’s good to have you home, even if it’s just for a couple of months.” 

Anna was reclaiming him from tour, from Chester, and she was doing a good job. The lines that were blurred and so easily shifted while on tour were darker, more defined now that he was home, and Mike watched as Anna moved away to pour coffee, thinking about her lips on his. He craved the physical intimacy that he didn’t get when he was away, that sleeping with Chester didn’t provide, could never provide, because they were best friends. Bandmates. Nothing more.

“I always wonder if you’ll be happy to see me, or if I just get in the way of things,” Mike said lightly, though he was being serious. The bottle was gone and Mike lifted Abi up to burp her, his attention shifting back to the baby as he patted her back gently.

“Of course I’m glad you’re home. _We’re_ glad you’re home.” Anna set Mike’s coffee cup in front of him and reached for the baby. “Come here, lovebug,” she cooed, sliding Abi into her arms. “Eat your breakfast,” she said to Mike, “Otis wants you to take him to the park.”

“Yeah! The park, Papa!” Otis’ eyes were shining brightly and Mike couldn’t help but smile back.

“Okay, buddy, let’s finish breakfast and we’ll go. Maybe we can feed the ducks.” Picking up a piece of bacon, Mike studied his wife, sitting across from him quietly, her hair tucked behind her ear, his daughter in her arms. After a moment, he smiled at her, thinking about his family of four, the home life he belonged in… the Mike he would be for the next three months.

*****

Anna didn’t look surprised when Mike walked in the back door of the Bennington’s as though it were his own house, leading her straight into the kitchen where both Talinda and Chester were working.

The smile on Mike’s face was immediate as he went straight to Chester, bumping his shoulder into the vocalist as he grated cheese.

“Thank God you’re here,” Chester exclaimed, looking not at Mike but at Anna. “Tal’s got me in here working, and it’s my birthday! It’s not right!”

“I’m here to save you,” Anna said with a giggle, giving Talinda a brief kiss on the cheek and heading to wash her hands. “Do I need to take over the cheese from you?”

“Yes!” Chester slapped Mike’s hand away from the cheese, where he was reaching to steal a bite. “You stay out of that, it’s for the tacos.”

Mike raised an eyebrow and reached back for a taste when Chester’s back was turned for a moment. “Tacos? Yum. Cheese is good, Ches,” Mike said with a wink, grinning at the mock outrage on his friend’s face.

“Damnit, Mike!” Chester complained, swatting at Mike with a dish towel as the emcee moved away.

“Okay, you both need to get out of my kitchen,” Talinda said with a smile over a stern voice. “Go in the den or something, wait for everyone else, Anna and I are going to finish setting up in here.”

“Won’t say no to that.” Chester tossed the towel onto the bar and leaned over to kiss his wife. “Thanks, babe.” 

Anna watched them go, heading into the den to turn on the television, and picked up the grater Chester had abandoned. “What else needs to be done?” she asked Talinda, who had turned her attention to stirring the taco meat on the stove top. 

“Um… there’s lettuce to be chopped, and then we just need to get the sour cream and salsa out… I bought guacamole, it’s in the fridge. Chester loves it but it’s so hard to find avocados right now, they’re just now getting in season. We’ll have to heat up taco shells…” her voice drifted off as she looked around the kitchen. “And drinks. But everyone can probably just get their own when they get here.” 

Talinda tapped the spoon on the side of the pot before setting it down and turning to Anna. “It’s really not as bad as I probably made it seem… but thanks for coming early. It’s always nice to have another set of hands, and you know how Chester is on his birthday.”

Anna laughed as the pile of shredded cheese grew. “I think all men expect to be catered to on their birthday.”

“Mike’s not as bad as Chester, is he?” Talinda tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached around Anna for an empty bowl.

“Actually, no… he’s really not. But I can’t think of the last time he was actually home on his birthday. Seems like they’re always on tour… or at the very least in the studio. It’s usually a pretty low-key celebration.” Anna set the grater aside and dumped the cheese into a bowl. “Speaking of tour, how have things been here since they got back?” 

“Oh, you know how it is… a few days of decompression and getting used to being around each other again.” Talinda sighed, her eyes edging toward the doorway their husbands had disappeared through. “I think Chester would sleep the entire time he’s home if I let him. He says it’s because there’s no schedule, nobody telling him what to do. But I wonder…” her voice dropped lower and she shifted her eyes to the door again. “I wonder sometimes if he really wants to be home. Sounds stupid, I know, but it’s such a different lifestyle than being out on the road.”

Anna looked up, an odd feeling of relief washing over her. “No, I know exactly what you mean. I think the same thing. Sometimes I feel like Mike’s head is so far away, that he’s not even with us. You don’t know how good it is to hear that it’s not just Mike.”

“They’re probably all like that, to varying degrees. I’ve never talked to the other girls about it, but I’m sure it’s not just our husbands.” Talinda scooped sour cream out into the bowl she’d retrieved, and glanced up to meet Anna’s eyes. “I know it’s hard on them to be apart, as much time as they spend together on the road. I tease Chester that Mike’s his work husband.”

Work husband. The sense of relief turned into a sick feeling as Anna forced a smile. “Yeah, it is like that, I suppose.” The uncertainty, the confusion, was back, just as Anna had been feeling reassured. Talinda was so casual about it all, and Anna couldn’t help but wonder if she worried about Mike’s relationship with Chester too much. They were close, they always had been, and Anna had been there when it all started, when Chester was brought into the fold and Mike had been there, predictable and encouraging in the face of Chester’s volatile existence.

Mike was the one who had steadied Chester, who had been there unfailingly through alcohol and drugs and divorce… of course there was a bond there. A bond that didn’t seem to bother Talinda at all. 

Anna could hear laughter from the den and she tried to refocus, keep the smile on her face as she mumbled, “it’s good that they have each other out on the road.”

“Probably helps them stay out of trouble,” Talinda agreed. “At least, Mike keeps Chester out of trouble.” She smiled in the direction of the laughter. “That’s what he tells me, anyway.” As they lined up bowls of toppings they could hear the muffled sounds of conversation from the den. “Wonder what they’re talking about.”

Mike was leaned back on the couch, laughing as Chester recounted a story in typical Chester fashion about having work done on his car. It was one of those normal, every day life events that they managed to avoid out on the road but that demanded their attention when they were home. Chester was animatedly into telling the story, his hands all over the place as he talked, and Mike was eating it up the way he always did. 

Chester was the one person who caused Mike to laugh with his entire body, and it almost seemed like a personal mission to make sure that happened every time he told a story. His eyes were shining bright with excitement as Talinda and Anna came into the den. 

“Oh, you’re telling that story again?” Talinda asked as she sat down, right in Chester’s lap. “I thought you’d be tired of that one by now.”

“But Mike hasn’t heard it!” Chester complained good naturedly. “Doesn’t matter, I’m finished anyway. Are the tacos ready?” 

Mike felt his stomach rumble at the mention of tacos. The smell of taco meat was wafting through the house and he was ready to eat, but he knew they were waiting on the rest of the guys and their wives. “Chester, you can’t have tacos without the guys,” Mike admonished gently.

“Exactly.” Talinda winked at Mike before she ducked her head and kissed Chester.

Anna watched Mike watch Talinda and Chester, as one of Chester’s hands came up to tangle in Talinda’s long dark hair while they kissed. She watched something like curiosity slide over her husband’s face before he looked away, catching Anna’s eyes on him. A slight blush crossed his cheeks before he smiled at her. “Come here,” he said softly, putting his hand out for hers. “Sit with me.”

She slid down on the couch next to Mike, resting her head against his shoulder, dropping one hand on his thigh when he looped his arm around her back. Anna felt his lips in her hair as he kissed her and murmured, “I love you.”

Turning her eyes away from the passionate kiss of their friends in front of them, Anna squeezed Mike’s leg. “Love you, too.” 

Before too long, everyone else had arrived at the Bennington’s for Chester’s birthday taco celebration, and there was a lot of conversation and laughter as the evening wore on. Anna kept her eyes on Mike, watching the way his body language mimicked Chester’s, listening to the two of them spin stories together, catching the shared glances that nobody else seemed to see. The longer the night wore on the more she became convinced it was time to confront Mike about all the little things she’d seen and heard. Even if it didn’t bother Talinda, and even if it was nothing, it was bothering her, and that was enough to say something about it to Mike.

There was cupcakes and ice cream, and Anna heard Mike teasing Chester about being a ten year old boy in a grown man’s body as they stood around the island in the kitchen, singing happy birthday. She saw the comfortable and familiar way Mike’s arm went around Chester’s waist as they all sang, Chester’s face lit up in childish excitement. She saw the squeeze of Mike’s fingers to Chester’s side as he released him to blow out the candles, and the way Mike’s eyes never left Chester’s face. She saw everything through new eyes, eyes that had never considered that the biggest competition to her marriage might be her husband’s best friend. Her best friend’s husband. Did Chester belong to everyone?

She helped Talinda clean up before they headed out that night, predictably the last to leave. Mike and Chester were stretched out on the floor side by side, playing a video game, when Anna headed in to let Mike know she was ready to go.

“I’ve got some thoughts, maybe we could get together next week at your house.” Chester’s eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him as he continued, “I’ve got a notebook full of half-assed lyrics that need your help.” 

“Sounds like a plan to me, I think my whole week is pretty clear. It will be good to get back in the studio,” Mike said absently as he tried to find Chester’s guy in the maze.

“Mike, I’m ready, we shouldn’t keep my parents waiting too much longer,” Anna said, annoyed at what she’d just overheard. They’d been home two weeks, and already Mike was wanting to disappear into the studio again? “Come on, we’re already later than we said we would be.”

Mike heard the edge in Anna’s voice and he sat up, his eyes flicking over his wife’s face before he sat the game controller down. “Sorry, Ches, you’ll have to finish kicking my ass some other time,” he said, reaching for his shoes. 

Smirking, Chester switched off the game console without saving their progress. “Yeah, it’s the one thing I can do better than you, Mikey. I miss those days on the tour bus kicking your ass at Halo.” He reached for Mike’s outstretched hand and allowed himself to be pulled up off the carpet and into Mike’s arms.

“Happy Birthday, Ches,” he said, squeezing the vocalist close for a moment. “Tacos were awesome!” Mike called to Talinda, who was still in the kitchen, as he stepped back from the embrace. “I’ll touch base with you about next week, okay?”

Goodbyes were said as they exited the back door through the kitchen, and Mike was barely in the car before Anna couldn’t hold back any longer. “Next week, Mike? Really? You guys are going to start back up next week? You haven’t even finished the tour cycle for this album.”

“Whoa,” Mike said, his defenses up immediately. “You know how it goes, Anna, we always start the next album while we’re touring one. If we didn’t there’d be, like, four years between albums.”

“And that’s too long? Mike, you’re working constantly.” There was frustration in her voice and Anna wasn’t even trying to hide it. 

“Well, it didn’t help that Chester said we’d be putting an album out every two years in that interview.” Mike sighed, both hands on the steering wheel as he navigated in the dark. “Not that it’s the only reason we want to get back in the studio. I’ve always got stuff in my head, you know that. And if Chester’s got some stuff to work on too, we might as well.”

Taking a deep breath, Anna kept her eyes carefully on the road in front of them. “It seems like you and Chester just can’t stay away from each other.”

 _What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_ Mike realized his hands were gripping the steering wheel tighter and he forced himself to relax before Anna noticed, saying calmly, “you know it’s not like that, Anna,” even as his insides were churning.

“Do I? Even tonight, with everyone around, you two manage to get lost in your own secret moments. I was watching you, Mike.” Anna reached for a lock of her hair, twisting it between anxious fingers. She should have waited until they got home. It wasn’t a good idea, bringing this up in the car. She couldn’t see his face, look into his eyes as he talked. It was hard to decipher truths when she couldn’t see him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mike said tightly. He wanted to rub his forehead but he knew Anna was analyzing every move. One tiny thing could make the whole conversation blow up into something he definitely wasn’t ready for, not now. Not ever. “Tonight was just like every other time I’m with Chester,” he added, not sure if that was a statement that would help or hurt his case. 

As they passed by streetlights, Anna caught glimpses of Mike’s face, the crease between his eyebrows and the frown on his lips. It was just enough for her to know that what she was saying was making an impact. She couldn’t go into everything she felt at the moment, but maybe she could get him to understand, at least a little. 

“I feel… left out, Mike, when you’re with him,” she said softly, “and I get it, I know when you’re away that the guys are all you have. They’re family. But when you’re home… when you’re home, you’re supposed to be mine. Belong to me and the kids. And right now, I don’t think we’ve settled back into that place yet, and you’re wanting to get back in the studio…” Anna swallowed as she watched Mike’s face relax into sadness from the frustration he’d been feeling just moments ago. “It’s the same thing we keep coming back to. I want to be as important in your life as Chester is… and I don’t feel like I am.” 

Anna left out the constant touches, the shared looks, the familiarity between the two men that made her heart sink every time she thought about it. There was just no way she could say it out loud, what she was thinking. That somewhere as the years passed, the friendship between her husband and his best friend had changed into something more. That she was a firm second to Chester in every aspect. She felt like she knew Mike well enough that, even if there _was_ something blossoming between them, even if it _was_ already bearing fruit, he would never truly act upon it. The Mike Shinoda she knew, had loved for years and borne children for, wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. She just wanted him to know how she felt, and that she was watching, to pull him back from the edge if he was thinking of falling. 

The impact of Anna’s words left Mike breathless from the wound to his heart. It cut deep, hearing her say she felt second to Chester. He tried and tried, and it seemed that no matter what he did, Chester was there, even when he wasn’t. He wanted to be a good husband, and he was failing. His wife was sitting next to him, telling him he was painfully missing the mark. Nothing he could say would change the way she felt, it would take actions to convince her - and himself - that she was number one. 

She had to be number one. There was nothing but a closed door and heartache waiting at the end of any other route.

He reached for her hand, eyes still carefully on the road. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “That’s not how it is, and I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way. Chester is my closest friend, my professional partner… but that’s all, Anna. You’re my life partner, and I love you. I hope you know that.”

Anna looked down at their hands, then at Mike’s profile, her heart pinched in her chest. She did know that Mike loved her. But Mike loved Chester, too, she was certain of it. She was enlightened enough to know that loving more than one person deeply was not only possible, but probable. It didn’t change the desire she felt to be loved just slightly more than Chester, to be held higher in Mike’s heart. There was nothing more she could do about it now. She could only cling to the hope that Mike had established himself so firmly in their life together that he’d remain committed to her and the children. It was important enough to her to do everything she could to make that happen. 

“I do know, Mike. I know you love me. I’m probably just being silly, right? I mean, it’s probably just a product of being apart so much… I just see how comfortable you are with Chester and I feel like it takes time for us to reconnect that way.”

With a nod, Mike squeezed her hand. “It’s always different, coming home. But we’ll be okay, Ann, we always are.” 

Mike didn’t look at his wife, just concentrated on the road with her small hand inside his. Her hand that felt nothing like Chester’s, her citrus scent that wasn’t lavender, her soft and controlled voice that didn’t have Chester’s emotional range. He needed them both, and he knew he had to figure out how to balance his needs better before he lost them both in the process.


	21. Part Two: ATS -- Roads Untraveled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to:  
> Chapter 3 of _Confession_ https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757836/chapters/29152263  
>  Chester singing Rolling in the Deep: https://youtu.be/_sXrTpOVnak

[July 4, 2011]

The months before Linkin Park left for Europe were full for Mike. He had really tried to minimize the time in the studio with Chester after his fight with Anna, despite the constant longing to see the vocalist in the back of his mind. After all, the band had barely formed ideas for what was next, and working really was more an excuse for Mike and Chester to spend time together than anything else. Just afternoons in the studio messing around on guitars, throwing words around, laughing and talking in between bits of writing that went nowhere. 

With the inability to create music came a sort of restlessness that could only be solved by creating _something_ , and Mike spent the hours he would have spent in the studio painting. It didn’t matter what he was painting - the simple fact that he could get those stray thoughts and feelings out of his head in some way was really all he needed. The morning hours after Abi went down for her nap were spent with a brush in his hand more often than not, and there wasn’t anything for Anna to argue about - painting was a solitary activity.

As they drew closer to summer, Mike started teaching Otis to swim, and it was fun to see how quickly he sucked up Mike’s instructions. On those afternoons, with Anna holding Abi and watching her husband and son in the water together, Chester seemed far away to both of them. Mike was completely and totally focused on his family again, and as the weeks between the end of the US and beginning of the European legs of the tour passed, the concerns Anna had felt at Chester’s birthday celebration started to fade into the background. 

It was night times, when the kids were asleep and the house cool and quiet, when Mike was holding Anna close in bed, that he missed Chester the most. He couldn’t stop himself from turning the days text messages over in his head, thinking about whatever Chester had said that made him smile that day. When he nuzzled his face into Anna’s hair and tried to sleep, that same restlessness that drove him to paint in the mornings forced him out of bed and to one of his sketchbooks. 

Those sketchbooks he kept buried under other supplies in his art studio, knowing if Anna happened across one he’d have too many questions thrown at him with not enough answers to give. When his mind couldn’t leave thoughts of Chester alone, he would dig one out and sit in a corner, drawing snapshots in his memory. Some nights he drew until the early morning hours, until he exhausted all the thoughts that lingered in his mind, until he could crawl in bed and finally fall asleep. Some nights he just didn’t come to bed.

Going back on the road had been so much easier than coming home, and Mike was starting to feel the pattern of his two personas. It was also becoming clearer, as he shifted from husband and father to friend and frontman, which version of himself he preferred. Which Mike Shinoda he settled into faster. Which lifestyle felt normal. 

When they left for Europe back in June, he’d packed his sketchbooks, just in case his insomnia followed him. It hadn’t surprised him, really, that instead of needing his artwork to sleep, he’d used it instead to relax before bed. In that small span of time when he was separated from Chester, when the vocalist tended to his personal needs in his own room, Mike sat in the corners of hotel rooms and cleared his mind. He’d filled an entire book during this leg of the tour, and when he’d packed his things earlier, the reality of going home slammed into him again as he tucked it between his pajama pants and his jeans. Returning to his home life was becoming a tired cycle of guilt, indecision, and fear. He still hadn’t accepted that he was in love with his wife and his best friend. His upbringing couldn’t allow the reality of such a fucked up situation. 

All of these thoughts wouldn’t leave Mike alone as they prepared for the show in London, the final one in Europe. It seemed as though they had just started this journey, and fifteen shows and three weeks later, it was already time to return home. London was a city he and Chester knew well, and loved, and which seemed somewhat sentimental to the both of them on this evening as they came together before the performance.

Mike’s eyes were closed, his head bowed forward as Dave started his prayer. It was unusual that he and Chester were next to each other in the huddle, their arms looped close around each other, and Mike could feel Chester’s fingertips lightly stroking over the hair at the nape of his neck, as though such a thing were completely normal. These were the soft touches they reserved for moments alone in the hotel room, neither of them so bold as to display such familiarity in front of their bandmates. But for some reason, tonight, the last night before they went home for awhile, Chester was toeing the line. 

So Mike took the opportunity to feather his fingertips over Chester’s hair, hair which he had grown out again, which was softly curling where it stopped at the tender skin of his neck. With his eyes closed he heard Chester’s breathing as it became heavier, and Mike wondered if it was because of his casual caress or simply the excitement building for the last show of the European leg. 

The huddle broke and there was just a few minutes, a flurry of activity, before they were on stage, and Mike didn’t have the chance to look Chester in the eyes, to question what had happened in the huddle. It was business, as much as it could be for Mike, who relished every verse from Chester’s lips and touch of his hands. There was no time to ask what those touches had been all about, and Mike decided it was probably better that way. Some things surely were better let unsaid. It was better if his desires for Chester weren’t reciprocated, if he were simply reading into Chester’s normal behaviors and assigning false meaning to things they’d done their whole career. It was better if those intimate moments were left in the dressing room, in the van, in the hotel. 

The set blew by and Mike found himself backstage, preparing for the encore, watching Chester wipe his sweaty body down with a towel before reaching for water. Mike turned away from the sight of his bare chest, a vision he’d seen hundreds of times in their career, but which seemed different in this night. Something had been simmering in the air since the huddle, and Mike needed a moment to regroup. Especially with the song they were going start the encore with… Mike needed to clear his head.

He smiled quickly as Chester breezed by on the way to the front, his shoulder brushing Mike’s arm as he passed. It was those little things, those ‘accidental’ touches, that said everything, if Mike wanted to let himself get carried away. That physical contact that the other guys didn’t casually subject him to over and over again. 

Chester was already talking with the crowd when Mike made his way out and hopped up onto the podium, still a bit breathless from the end of the set and the electricity of Chester’s touch. His eyes drifted over Chester’s back and he wondered briefly why in the world the vocalist had put a shirt on when Mike knew he was sweaty and hot. The fabric clung to his back and sides in a way Mike found far too appealing.

“Thank you very much… we’re gonna do something really special for you guys…” Mike sat down, glancing back toward Chester again before he closed his eyes and listened as the vocalist told the crowd they were going to play a song by another artist… a local artist. They both were adjusting their earpieces, Chester speaking while Mike played a few chords to get started. “I hope we do it justice,” Chester ended his introduction, right as he wrapped his hands around the mic and launched into the opening lines of Adele’s _Rolling in the Deep_ without looking to see if Mike was ready. 

Instantly Mike’s eyes flew open. _It’s too high. He’s starting too high._ With a bit of panic, Mike leaned forward a bit, trying to get Chester’s attention. “Ches,” he called, and when he got no response, he tried again, louder. “Chester!”

Chester was already in the zone, his eyes shut, when he heard the urgency in Mike’s voice. Turning slightly, he waited for the rest of what Mike had to say.

“Ches, come here, come here,” Mike said, motioning the vocalist over. He caught Chester’s annoyed eyes as he leaned back toward the emcee.

“What?” 

“You’re in the wrong key,” Mike explained quickly. “It’s going to get too high, you’ve got to drop it down.”

Taking his earpiece out, Chester poked his head behind the keyboard, meeting Mike as he leaned down, their faces suddenly inches apart.

Mike blinked, the proximity of Chester’s heat and post-show scent settling into his stomach as he inhaled a shaky breath and took out his own earpiece to hear Chester’s response. “Here, you have to start here,” Mike said urgently, plucking out the starting note a few times on the keyboard. “It’s gonna get too high, you won’t like it.”

The annoyance on Chester’s face softened as he looked at Mike’s concern. In that moment Chester knew Mike only wanted to give him the best possible opportunity to sing a song that was demanding, that he knew would be compared to the original time and time again. Mike wanted to showcase the range and versatility Chester possessed, and he wanted it to be amazing. Chester felt the appreciation for his best friend hit him in that moment, as Mike’s big brown eyes held his, waiting for a response. “Thanks, Mike,” he said with a wink, replacing his earpiece as he hummed the starting pitch that Mike played for him a few more times. 

When he started again, the sexiness in Chester’s voice caught Mike completely unprepared. It was much more than he was accustomed to, and he watched Chester from the side. He saw the concentration, the way Chester screwed his eyes shut as he sang, the way his hand gripped the mic and he couldn’t help but swing his hips in time to the music. Mike adored that voice in every situation, but this song… these lyrics and Chester’s tone were toying with him now, making it hard to concentrate on anything but how badly he wanted to leap down from his keyboard and take Chester in his arms. Cover that talented mouth with his hot kisses and take what he wanted. He wanted Chester… and the blinding realization of just how much held him spellbound as he listened to him sing. 

Eyes tightly shut, Chester expertly nailed every pitch even as he stretched his voice to the limit, and Mike had to look away, concentrate on the keyboard as Chester hit the pre-chorus and the words burned straight to his heart. 

_The scars of your love they leave me breathless_  
_I can’t help feeling we could have had it all_

Chester’s voice was coming from a place of passion, a story untold, a feeling he held inside. Mike felt the despair in his core, the futility of his feelings as Chester’s voice sank in and he dropped his head, focusing on the keys, trying to ignore how it felt to hear such raw emotions… different emotions than usually rose to the surface in their songs. 

_You’re gonna wish you never had met me…_

Right then, when Mike opened his eyes, watching as Chester nailed the highest part of the song, he wondered if the two of them would ever have regrets about their relationship. Friendship. Partnership. Mike bit back the haunting thought that the whole thing could come crumbling down if Chester knew about his feelings. He knew he could never tell, and he’d been getting dangerously close to letting it slip.

The song ended with one last sexy breath into the mic, the tossing back of the vocalist’s head to expose his long neck, and the emcee’s proud grin, with the love he was trying to conceal in his eyes shining through, obvious to anyone who might be looking.

*****

Mike came to the bed that night with a notebook in his hand, words swirling in his head from the emotions he hadn’t been able to leave on stage. He was lost in writing, tossing down words, when Chester came in from his room, fresh from his shower, his glasses on and every inch of skin covered in a long sleeved t-shirt and pajama pants. Nothing was said as Chester slid in between the sheets, sliding next to Mike and laying his head on Mike’s arm, peering down into the notebook. 

For some reason, Mike covered two of the lines he’d just written with his palm, feeling suddenly self conscious, though he’d never hidden lyrics from Chester before. They felt too intimate, so close to his hidden feelings, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted Chester to see them just yet, with no context around them. Everything else was bits and phrases, but these two lines were set in his head already. 

Without saying a word, Chester reached over and gently moved Mike’s shielding hand aside, and they both felt the spark in that touch, Chester’s fingers lingering on Mike’s skin, Mike holding his breath without meaning to, the silence stretching heavy between them as Chester scanned the page, his eyes landing on the lines Mike was trying to hide. 

_Weep not for roads untraveled_  
_Weep not for paths left alone_

Neither of them moved, Mike’s breaths shallow and inaudible and his heart beating rapidly. He felt the rigidity in Chester’s body give way as he relaxed into Mike’s side, silent for a few more moments until the vocalist finally murmured, “gone… known… own… shown… unknown…”

Mike smiled faintly as he scribbled Chester’s rhyming words in the margin. It was how they always started a song, a few lines and a string of rhymes, and it would go though hours of reincarnation until it was perfect to both of them. This would be no different, even if the words were currently being pulled straight from Mike’s heart. 

“Thanks, Ches,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I just needed to get those lines out of my head, they wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Chester rolled to the side, dropping his glasses on the table and then laying on his back, his eyes closed. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Mike stared at the words on the paper before he closed his eyes. “It’s just… was just thinking about going home… and before we went back out on tour, I was doing well at home, with the kids. I felt good about being a dad… getting over my issues about being gone so much…” he sighed then, closing the notebook and looking and his hands. “Then we got out on the road… and… it’s like I’m living in a different life. I miss them, but I don’t. God, it’s so fucked up.” 

He covered his eyes with one hand. “I sound like a terrible person, a horrible dad… but I love what we do, Ches, I love being on stage and all the places we go, the things we see…” _I love being with you_ , Mike finished in his head, his breathing hitching as he thought of how it would feel to say those words aloud. How it would feel to say, _I miss you so when we go home that I can’t sleep anymore._ But instead he settled for, “we were in the huddle earlier, and all I could think about was leaving tomorrow… and I’m not ready.”

Chester didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes, but he said, “your lines sound like Robert Frost. What’s that poem?” 

Mike uncovered his eyes and looked over at Chester. _He’s not connecting this to him at all. And that’s good._ “The road not taken?”

“Yeah.”

“Different paths you could have taken…” Mike mused. “Maybe it’s about that. I don’t know.” He leaned over to put the notebook on the table, setting his glasses on top and switching off the lamp. “Hard to tell when all we’ve got is two lines.” 

“And a handful of rhyming words, don’t forget I helped,” Chester said seriously, following his words with a yawn.

Mike turned into the bed, and was settling on his pillow when he felt Chester shift from his back to his side, reaching behind him for Mike. “I’m not ready, either, if that makes you feel any better.” He pulled Mike’s arm around him and sighed. “Just one more leg after this. It’s been a good tour cycle.”

“And then on to the next album,” Mike added, closing his eyes. “Good night, Ches,” he whispered, fatigue and loneliness crashing over him in the darkness. He was so tired, but so unwilling to let go and fall asleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring yet another separation from Chester. It was too much to think about, but soon the exhaustion of the day had Mike in an uneasy sleep, working his way through dreams that felt too real, like an extension of the day he’d just finished. 

By early morning, Chester had turned in the night and lay curled on his side facing Mike, the emcee’s arm draped over his side, his breath fanning softly over his face. Chester had been sleeping lightly, Mike’s restlessness never allowing him to drop into a deep sleep. Those restless dreams of Mike’s shifted from the demands of a typical day to something else, something his mind was pushing forward, demanding to be recognized. 

He was in the dressing room again, and all his subconscious mind could think was - how was it so easy, losing control this way?

Mike let his hands drift down from Chester’s face and trace lightly over the front of his t-shirt, soaking in the forbidden feeling of warmth radiating through the thin white fabric. He could feel that familiar heat between them, all of the words they never spoke but read in each other’s eyes, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away right then. It didn’t matter that they were due on stage in mere moments, that the other guys had gone on ahead once the huddle broke. Neither he nor Chester could move, and the moment was surreal. It was finally going to happen.

He was going to just say ‘fuck it’ and kiss him. He had to know. The look in Chester’s eyes, the way his arm had looped around Mike’s neck in the huddle and played with the back of his hair as Dave prayed, the way his breathing had labored when Mike returned the caress. Mike hadn’t missed any of the signals, and even if they hadn’t come out and said it, he knew Chester wanted him too. 

“I feel so lost without you,” Mike whispered, “so lost, Ches.”

He watched as Chester’s eyes slid closed, giving himself over to the moment, allowing this to happen. “It’s so hard to be away from you,” he whispered back. “I hate going home.”

Mike sucked in the heat between them as one hand curled around Chester’s back, pulling him close. It was just for a moment. The dressing room door was open, but it would just be a minute. In a daze fueled by years of repression he leaned forward, his lips connecting with the pulse in Chester’s pale neck, taking his first taste of the vocalist, the warm, soft skin there. The whimper that escaped his own throat barely registered as he felt Chester’s hands slide down his back to his waist, holding them together carefully as Mike’s lips traced the vein from Chester’s collarbone up, then kissing under his jaw.

“God, Mike,” Chester breathed, and Mike’s cock jumped in response to the other man’s voice.

“Ches… I’m scared,” he whispered back, his lips barely brushing over Chester’s jawline as he pulled back to make eye contact. “I’m scared you don’t want this the way I do…”

Their eyes connected and it was all the reassurance Mike needed to bring their lips together softly, carefully… testing the reaction he’d get from kissing his best friend, finally. 

It was warm, and gentle, and soft… and Mike’s fingers curled into Chester’s back, bringing him closer…

And in the hotel bed, Chester Bennington allowed his best friend, his lyrical partner, his most closely guarded secret desire, to kiss him from the depths of his unconscious mind. Any fear he held that Mike would remember, would hate him in the morning, melted away in the tenderness of their first kiss, the hesitant pressure of Mike’s full lips against his own, seeking comfort, seeking reassurance… seeking reciprocation. Chester allowed Mike’s hand on his back, their legs tangled together, and behind his closed eyes all he saw was peace, a quiet, blessed darkness. He allowed his hand to move, his thumb to stroke softly at the soft facial hair that covered Mike’s jaw. He allowed Mike to pull his bottom lip into his mouth and run his tongue along it, until he was breathless, until his brain caught up with what was happening and he carefully pulled away.

Mike lay still, and Chester listened as his breathing slowed, becoming the deep regular rhythm of sleep, and he lifted his hand to gently stroke back the dark hair that was falling across Mike’s forehead. He felt the kiss in his entire body, the nerve endings lit with arousal and the inevitability of what had just happened. This kiss that Mike had given him, that he wouldn’t remember the next day. Silent moments passed while Chester thought of how Mike’s lips felt against his, the love he’d taken from those moments of connection. The difference in kissing someone he’d emotionally desired for so long, and kissing his wife. Wondering of the intentionality of Mike’s actions, and whether he should tell him what had happened between them.

There was no more sleeping that night for Chester as he lay awake, watching the sunlight begin to slowly illuminate the room, bringing Mike’s beloved features from softened ambiguity to sharpened focus. He watched Mike sleeping, his emotions moving between elated and despairing, for no matter how right kissing Mike had felt, the reality of it was that they could not exist together as lovers, Chester was sure of it. There was too much at stake; their wives and children, their bandmates, their careers. As Mike slept on, Chester thought of and discarded every scenario he possibly could that would allow him to share with Mike what they had done, leaving him with the only possible outcome. It would have to remain a secret, his burden to bear to protect his best friend from the fallout.

**End of Part Two: ATS**


	22. Part Three: Living Things -- Christmas

[December 24, 2011]

Chester looked across the long table, his eyes skipping over the lit candles between him and Mike. The crimson and gold table runner was littered with the dishes that he and Mike, and to a lesser degree, Anna and Talinda, had made for the holiday dinner. It was eclectic, the way it usually was when they all made dishes for a meal. Even though it was just the four adults and the two boys, there was more food than they could eat, and more presents than necessary under the tree in the cabin living area. 

It had been almost six months since Mike had kissed him in his sleep in the London hotel room, and every time Chester looked at Mike since, it was the first thing his mind went to. It was hard to shake the memory of Mike’s soft, gentle kiss, the warmth between them, the way Mike had subconsciously pulled him closer and the way he’d just surrendered to it despite his better judgement. His rational, cognizant, awake judgement.

Everything about the kiss was etched into Chester’s memory, and nothing about the kiss was etched into Mike’s… which was the dilemma. The more time he’d allowed to pass without telling Mike what happened the less likely it had seemed that they would be able to laugh it off, and Chester sunk into the miserableness that keeping such a secret caused. In all of those months home, in all of the time they’d spent working on lyrics in both studios, there had only been a few moments that they had been completely alone. There was always someone - one of the guys, or one of their wives - around, and the thoughts he’d had of sharing the secret with Mike ended up fading into the background. 

He knew Mike could sense something was off, but they hadn’t been alone long enough for Mike to question him. Even over the past few days at the Bennington’s Arizona cabin, Chester had rarely found himself alone with Mike. Now Mike’s dark eyes were candlelit, and Chester found it hard to stop looking at the reflection of the light in the depths. 

“Chester? You okay?” Mike asked finally, a little unnerved at how Chester’s gaze kept coming back to him at the family dinner.

“Huh? I mean, yeah. Just… thinking about Christmas,” he answered with a grin. “I fuckin’ love Christmas!”

With a disapproving cluck of his tongue, even as he smiled, Mike warned, “Ches… the boys…” 

“Oh, you know Chester has no filter around the children,” Talinda said lightly. 

Mike just rolled his eyes, glancing down at Otis, who was sitting at his right. He was happily eating mac and cheese, and though he appeared oblivious to Chester’s cursing, Mike knew he was listening to every word the adults said. “Still,” he said sternly, squinting across the table at Chester.

The indifferent look on the vocalist’s face made Mike grin. It was next to impossible for him to stay mad at Chester, or to even pretend that he was. He glanced at Anna, who was watching him. He smiled warmly and reached for her hand, squeezing it on the table between their plates, pleased when she smiled back at him. Her smile made him think of his daughter, fast asleep in the other room. Abi looked more like Anna every day. 

The past few months had been an almost equal mix of family time and time in the studio, and Mike was feeling good about where both were headed. Anna was happy with the balance he’d struck between the two, and was even the one to ask him if he wanted to spend Christmas in Arizona when Talinda had invited them. 

Now they were all around the dinner table, not unlike many meals they had shared in the past, and Mike could truly say he was happy. Content. The new album was coming together faster than _A Thousand Suns_ had, and he felt comfortable in his skin. The only question mark right now was Chester’s unpredictable moods, moods that seemed to shift the moment Mike questioned him about them. _It’s probably just typical Chester, nothing to worry about. He’s like me… always wants to be working._

It was his turn to get Otis’ bath and bedtime routine done, and so after the dishes had been cleared and the dishwasher loaded, Mike left Anna and the Bennington’s in the kitchen, where Talinda was discussing which bottle of wine to open with Anna. Mike frowned at the conversation but held his tongue. It would be up to Chester to say something to his wife about the alcohol, it wasn’t his place.

Just thinking about opening the bottle with Chester in the house made Mike’s stomach hurt. He knew he was probably being far too protective, but he knew how hard it was for Chester to turn down something he’d once loved. Mike had loyally pledged to be alcohol free with Chester before Talinda had even entered their lives, and he’d done what he considered to be a good job following through. They all had, him and the guys, only indulging in a beer or a glass of wine when Chester wasn’t around. It was a pledge Mike believed in, and it troubled him to be away from Chester while their wives were drinking. It always seemed easier to say no when you had a partner to stay sober with.

Luckily Otis was cooperative, despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve, and when Mike called Anna into the bedroom to read a story, the little boy climbed into bed afterward without a complaint.

“You know, Otis, the faster you fall asleep, the faster Santa will be here,” Mike said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Christmas was ten times better when he was living it through his son’s eyes. He could hear Chester and Talinda wishing Tyler good night in the room across from Otis, and then silence. 

“That’s right,” Anna said, fluffing Otis’ hair back from his forehead in that special way only moms seem to get right. “Sweetie, I know you’re excited, but you have to try to go to sleep.” 

Otis nodded, squeezing his big brown eyes tightly shut. “Like this, Mama?” his little voice asked from inside the blanket wrapped around him.

“Yes, just like that,” Anna said softly. “Good night,” she whispered as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Papa!” he called, reaching a hand out for Mike. “Papa, will you sit with me?”

Mike’s eyes met Anna’s. One thing they’d been trying to break Otis of was the need to have Mike beside him as he fell asleep. It was only when Mike was home, but it was every night, and it worked on Mike’s guilt heavily. He knew it was because he spent so much time away, and he had continually tried to reassure Otis that he would be there the next morning, but so far nothing they had tried worked. 

“Santa can’t come if Papa is still awake,” Anna said, winking at Mike. “You’ll need to let him go to sleep, too, so you can get presents, Otis. Now, close those eyes tight and try your best. We will both be here in the morning.”

Mike knelt next to the bed and looked right at his son. “I promise, I’ll be here in the morning. And it will be Christmas, it will be so awesome!” 

He watched Otis as he went back and forth between wanting Mike to stay and wanting Christmas to come. Finally, his wise little voice said, “okay, Papa. You go to sleep now, too.”

With a kiss to Otis’ nose, Mike laughed softly. “Okay, son, I’ll go to sleep as soon as I can. I love you.” 

When they stepped out into the hall, shutting the bedroom door behind them, Anna slid her arm around Mike’s waist. “Maybe Santa is just what we need to get him to go to sleep on his own. You know, he doesn’t do that to me when you’re gone. I think he just knows how to play on your emotions.”

“You’re probably right,” Mike agreed, “but I want to be able to tell him yes. I want him to know I’m always going to be here for him, even when I’m not here. I want him to trust me.” Mike kissed the top of her head as they walked back toward the kitchen area. Talinda was waiting for Anna, two half full wine glasses on the bar, and Mike glanced at them briefly before he got himself a glass of water. 

Anna sat down, swirling her red wine, and on the way back to the den, Mike stopped to smell it, just to see what they were drinking. “Mmmm, smells nice,” he said, pecking Anna on the cheek and then catching sight of Chester looking at him through the doorway. A guilty flush crawled over his cheeks as he took his glass of water into the room with Chester.

“It’s okay, Mike, if you want a glass. It’s not like we’re on tour or anything. I want you to enjoy yourself.” Chester looked back toward the kitchen, where Talinda and Anna were sitting in the cushioned barstools, ready to enjoy a glass of wine, talking quietly now that the boys had gone to sleep.

Shaking his head, Mike dropped down on the sofa next to Chester, their thighs touching. He could feel the warmth of the other man’s body through the jeans they were both wearing as he reached over and snagged the notebook out of Chester’s hands, glancing over the lyrics he was writing as he sat his glass on the end table.

_In these promises broken, down below_   
_Each word gets lost in the echo_  
 _So one last time I can see (through/you)_  
 _This time I’ll_

Mike leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, the exposed beams and the burnt caramel color of the wood. “This whole album is about promises, it seems like,” he commented, studying the knots and swirls in the panels. “You doing okay, Ches?”

Chester didn’t look Mike’s way, lifting his eyes instead to look at Talinda through the doorway, at the long dark curls she was sweeping away from her face as she giggled at something Anna was saying. “I’m good. Christmas and all. It’s always a good time.” 

Mike followed Chester’s eyes, gazing at his own wife now. He watched her bring the glass of red wine to her lips and take a sip, and he didn’t want to admit that he really wanted a glass too. But he’d promised years ago that he wouldn’t drink around Chester, even when others were. “Is it hard to watch them?” he asked in a low voice, making sure he wouldn’t be overheard.

“Tal should be able to enjoy a glass of wine on occasion without me holding her back,” Chester answered, sad tones in his voice. “She already puts up with so much from me.” He looked back at Mike, who was reaching for his pen. “Want it?” he asked, handing it over.

Without saying anything, Mike took the pen from Chester and added his words to Chester’s verse before passing the book and pen back to the vocalist. 

Chester looked down as Mike tucked a sock covered foot up underneath him. 

This time I’ll _finally let you go,_ written in Mike’s elegant scrawl rather than the block letters he usually wrote with.

He looked down at the added words for a moment, reading the verse in his head a few times. It worked. “Words for _Holding Company_ ” he murmured, looking at Mike for approval as he hummed what he could remember of the track.

“I like it,” Mike agreed. From the corner of his eye he caught Anna and Talinda looking in the room at them. 

“Always working,” Anna said over the top of her wine glass, only loud enough for Talinda to hear her.

“Mmmhmm,” Talinda agreed, her eyes softening as she looked at her husband and his best friend on the couch together. Mike’s eyes caught hers and they smiled before he looked away, pointing at something on the paper that caused Chester to scratch a line through it. “Chester works in his sleep. Sings, I mean,” she clarified, looking at Anna with amusement. “Sometimes I wake up and he’s over there singing and I swear he’s dreaming that he’s on stage.”

Anna sat up a little straighter, her wine glass going to the bar top. “Really? I thought it was just Mike that did that stuff in his sleep. He doesn’t sing, but he talks sometimes. Always sounds like work. Talking with Chester, usually.” She fluffed her fingers through her hair and released a long sigh. “Is it weird that I’m glad to know Chester does that too? That it’s not just Mike?” 

“Does it bother you?” Talinda asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know how they are, they’re always thinking about songs and music. I think Chester dreams about being on stage every night. I know he misses it when they’re home. Especially when it’s been a long stretch, like it is now.” She reached over and placed a hand on top of Anna’s and squeezed it lightly. “And you know Mike. There’s never any down time in that man’s head. _And_ you know Chester drives him crazy. It’s probably a coping mechanism to argue it out in his sleep when Chester can’t answer.”

It made sense the way Talinda explained it all away. It always did, and for a brief moment, Anna wished she could be as easy-going about Mike and Chester’s relationship as her best friend seemed to be. It was probably true that she worried herself endlessly about things that didn’t matter, situations that didn’t even exist. She looked back into the den, examining the familiarity with which the two men were lounging together, writing lyrics and laughing at their own jokes. For a moment she felt like she was intruding, witnessing a moment that was meant to be shared between just the two of them, and quickly realized that this was how it was when they were away, on tour. She watched Mike’s eyes light up with happiness at something Chester had just said, and she swallowed hard before she looked down at Talinda’s hand covering her own.

“Tal,” she started, not quite sure what she wanted to say. There was a long pause while Talinda waited patiently before Anna asked, “do you ever watch videos of them?”

“You mean the LPTV stuff they do? They’re so crazy in some of those.” Talinda laughed but Anna shook her head.

“No, I mean, like, the stuff the fans put up on line? Have you ever watched any of that?” She pulled her hand back and picked up the wine glass again, taking another sip to cover her frown.

Talinda shrugged. “Some of it, but it’s all kinda the same after a while. Not to diminish what they do,” she said, her eyes flicking back to the den for a minute, “but how many videos do we need of them singing the same stuff? There’s literally a video for every night of the tour. I don’t have any need to watch all of that. When I want to see Chester I just go to the show.” 

She picked up the wine bottle and pointed it at Anna’s glass. “Want any more? There’s some left, I’ll split it with you.”

“Sure.” Anna tipped her glass back and finished off what she had before sliding it over for a refill. There wasn’t much left, which was probably good. She could feel the warmth spreading through her body. “We should go in there with them.”

“Nah, let them get it out of their systems,” Talinda said. “Maybe that way they won’t have work on the brain tomorrow.” She set the bottle to the side and smiled. “It’s Abi’s first Christmas. I’m sure you’re excited about that.”

“Oh, you should have seen Mike, I had to stop him when we were out buying presents. He’s got such a huge heart for the children.” It was true. Mike was the incredible father she had always known he would be, and the last several months at home he had really embraced the role with two kids comfortably. 

Talinda smiled fondly at Anna. “We’ve got two good ones, don’t we? Chester wants a baby girl so much he can’t hardly stand it. Every time I see him with Abi I think about it… I think I’m ready for another, but they’ll be back on tour the end of next year and it will be like having Tyler all over again - alone.”

“But you did it. It’s just what we have to do,” Anna said, smiling ruefully at her friend. “It’s what we have to do so they can have this life they’ve built together.” 

Their eyes connected over their wine glasses, both hearing the last word Anna said so calmly - _together._ A sisterhood of shared circumstance had been forged between them years ago, and they both were grateful to have someone who understood exactly how they felt, the things they went through as the wives of Linkin Park’s frontmen. A shoulder to cry on, a friend to help out, a woman who understood what it was like to have millions lusting after your husband. 

“I’m glad I have you,” Talinda said sincerely, “you make it all bearable when it seems so hard.”

Anna nodded, looking down into her wine glass before she looked over at Mike and Chester again. Chester was poking Mike with the pen and Mike was laughing, and they looked like two kids bothering each other in class instead of two men in their thirties. She looked at the way Mike slapped at Chester’s hands and the way Chester kept messing with him, and she ordered herself to take a deep breath. They were just screwing around. “Yeah… I’m glad I have you too, Tal.” She finished off the last of her wine and stood up, her body pleasantly warm, and walked into the den. 

“Mike, honey,” she said, stretching out her hand, “let’s go to bed. 

It didn’t sting, the way it normally did, when Mike looked over at Chester first before nodding his head and taking her hand. “‘Night, Ches,” he murmured, “we’ll write some more tomorrow.”

“Man, I ain’t writing’ _shit_ tomorrow, man, it’s fuckin’ Christmas!” Chester said in a horrible accent, sending Mike into another round of giggles. 

“You right, you right,” Mike said back in a matching, but somehow worse, accent. “Good night, Tal,” he called into the kitchen as he let Anna lead him to the bedroom.

“Merry Christmas, you guys,” Talinda called after them, and it was the last words spoken between the four of them until the next morning.

**********

There were mounds of destroyed wrapping paper everywhere and Mike and Chester were in the thick of it with the boys, joining in the exclamations over Legos they were ready to build together and cars to race, and every other thing Tyler and Otis had unwrapped that their dads wanted to play with too. Chester was already talking about ways to build ramps for the cars out of boxes, and Mike was laying over on his side, listening to Chester’s plans while propped up on his elbow.

There were still presents under the tree, gifts the adults had purchased for each other, that they just hadn’t gotten to yet as they watched the children unwrap Santa’s bounty. Abi was sitting against Mike’s legs, bouncing a stuffed elephant up and down and squealing every time she reached out to whack her brother with it. All Mike needed was some coffee and it would be the perfect Christmas morning. And bacon. He really wanted some bacon.

“Anna?” he called, reaching his hand down to caress Abi’s hair, “what’s for breakfast? Is there bacon?”

Anna was curled up on the couch in her fluffy robe, a camera in her hand. “Yeah, there’s bacon. And waffles. I was going make waffles, if you want to help.”

Both boys cheered for waffles and Mike smiled over at them. “I can do that. I’m an exceptional waffle maker,” he added, sitting up.

“It’s not hard,” Chester said. “Put the batter in, close it up, wait on the timer, and flip it over. Easy.” His eyes were sparkling with the taunt he’d extended, but Mike refused to take the bait.

“Sounds like Chester’s volunteering to make the waffles instead, Anna, so I’ll just sit here and play cars.” He grinned at Chester. Point, Shinoda, he tallied mentally. He knew Chester expected him to take the challenge of showing how superior his waffle making skills were, but it was Christmas and Mike felt lazy. He’d let Chester do the work.

“You’re just scared,” Chester tossed back.

“Okay, before we all forget the spirit of the holidays, lets open our gifts for each other,” Talinda suggested, digging under the Christmas tree and pulling out the rest of the gifts.

Mike winked at Chester, effectively ending their banter until later, as Talinda dropped gifts into everyone’s laps and another round of gift opening commenced.

Between new jewelry and other, more romantic gestures like first edition prints of books Anna loved, Mike felt like he’d done a good job selecting gifts for his wife. He was looking at new electronics she’d gotten off his very specific list for his console and chatting with Chester about all the things it could do when he looked up to see the vocalist handling the present he’d gotten for him.

As Chester ripped off the paper and saw another shoe box he howled with over zealous excitement. It was at least the sixth pair of shoes he had opened, but Mike knew these would be special, and he watched Chester lift the lid to find a pair of his latest fashion obsession, customized with artwork Mike had drawn on them.

“These are badass!” Chester said, holding one of the shoes up so Talinda could see them.

“He worked on those for days,” Anna said with a laugh. “You know how obsessive he gets over stuff like that.”

“That’s what makes them so dope!” Chester stuck a foot out and put one shoe on to admire it. “Seriously, these are fuckin’ awesome, Mikey.”

Anna’s heart skipped a beat when Chester so casually dropped his nickname for Mike into the conversation. It wasn’t like she’d never heard it before, but this felt different. It wasn’t playful, teasing the way she’d always heard it before. It carried undertones that sounded a lot more loving than playful, and she glanced over at Talinda, who either hadn’t heard it or was either too occupied with her new handbag to care.

“Glad you like them, Ches,” Mike responded just as carelessly.

Neither of them gave one second of thought to the nicknames they dropped around the band and when they were alone all the time. It was normal, especially when they were just fucking around, but this morning it was laced with more, and Anna heard it.

She lifted Abi from the floor, elephant still in her hand, and watched Mike unwrap a painting Chester had made for him, and listened to Mike gush over the artistic merit he identified in the work. It hit her that they had both _made_ each other gifts, and there was a part of her that thought how incredibly sweet - but odd - that was… she couldn’t recall any time they had done that before. 

As she sat there, thinking, Christmas continued around her, and she was smacked back into reality when the stuffed elephant in Abi’s hand connected with her nose. It was like the noise and the energy of the room came flooding back all at once, and Anna glanced around. It seemed she was the only person affected by the subtle display of love between Mike and Chester. Everyone else had moved on to other things, back to playing with the kids’ toys.

“Chester,” she called, clearing her throat. “You ready to go make those waffles?” Anna stood up and Mike stood up as well, setting the painting to the side and taking Abi from her outstretched hands.

“You bet,” he replied, hopping up from the ground and ruffling Tyler’s hair. Crossing the disaster zone that was the den after Christmas morning, Chester looped an arm around Anna’s waist and pulled her along to the kitchen. “Let’s go see about making breakfast for all these people we love.” 

Mike kissed Abi’s cheek, bouncing her in his arms. “You hear that, baby girl? Uncle Ches is gonna make us waffles.”


	23. Part Three: Living Things -- Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of trivia important for this chapter: Chester really did refer to Mike in LPTV 67 as “Lyricles”, pronounced Lyric - lees, similar to “Hercules”. 
> 
> Other song lyrics included are from “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” by Deep Blue Something.

[February 14, 2012]

Mike was already behind the console, clicking away at the computer screen, when Chester waltzed into the studio, fifteen minutes late.

“I’ve got some lyrics, today,” Mike greeted happily in Chester’s direction, his mood light. He watched as the vocalist took off his jacket, and smirked. They were matching. Again. Gray tops and black pants. It was happening more often these days. “Got some lyrics up in this bitch!” 

“Lyric-les,” Chester returned, tossing his jacket onto a chair. “That would be your Greek name, Lyricles.”

In a fit of Chester-induced giggles, Mike hunched over the keyboard, laughing, “Lyricles…” he tried to click on something but couldn’t control his laughter. “Lyricles, dude that’s amazing.”

Chester plopped down, looking over the lyrics Mike had printed out for the days work. After Mike calmed down, they tossed a few phrases back and forth, and Chester googled a few things, before he went to the piano to play around for a bit while Mike worked. Chester knew he was being a distraction, and they were only going to work for a half day today. If anything were going to be recorded, he needed to just let Mike do his thing.

But a few minutes later, Mike called him back over. “Hey, come look at this. I’m not gonna sing it, just look and tell me what you think.”

While Chester looked over the words, Mike stood up and stretched, looking around to catch sight of what everyone else was doing. Brad came and slid into Mike’s seat as he was standing, leaning over and checking out the lyrics with Chester. 

Taking the loss of his chair as an opportunity to walk around, Mike went to where Dave was messing around with the rhythm tracks for the song and looked over his shoulder. “Lookin’ good, we’re about ready to get Chester in there and finish this up. Just need to finalize with Brad.” 

“Looks good, man. I love this line, _lost in the burning glow_ , I’ve always liked that line.” As his eyes connected with Mike’s, who was on his way back to his computer, Chester took his cue and got up, retreating to the couch and snagging a donut on the way over. 

Mike had just sat back down with Brad, who was pointing at two words he didn’t like, when Dave ruined his jovial mood. 

“You know, after spending the morning here, I hope we all have something extra special planned for tonight. It being Valentine’s Day and all.”

Mike turned away from clicking the mouse at the computer and looked at Dave. “Valentine’s Day? Shit.”

Brad rolled his eyes from the seat next to Mike, leaning over and looking at the screen more closely. “Damn, Mike, I don’t know how Anna hasn’t left your ass by now. Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day. I thought you knew that when we all said we could only be here a half day today.”

Mike looked around at four of his bandmates, who were all staring at him curiously. _I fuckin’ forgot Valentine’s Day. Shit. How did that happen?_ He knew exactly how it had happened. He’d been so wrapped up with these lyrics the past two days, he’d been so close to getting everything right for _Buried at Sea_ that everything else had become secondary, even eating. It was always like that when he could feel a song getting close to crossing the finish line.

This album was coming together so much easier than the last one, and Mike knew he wasn’t the only one who was relieved. They all agreed that _A Thousand Suns_ was a great album, and their favorite so far, but the stresses that went into the making of it were some they could all do without this time around. He knew that was why this particular holiday had gotten away from him this time - he was fully immersed in the album and the creative juices were flowing easily. He didn’t want to stop. He’d been in a fantastic mood, and now…

“Damn it,” he said, sitting back in his chair as Brad took over the mouse. “You guys should have said something.”

Joe swallowed his bite of donut and pointed the half eaten, jelly-filled concoction at Mike’s face from across the room. “We thought you knew, Mike. It’s only the most important holiday to chicks, ever.”

Burying his face in his hands, Mike moaned in disbelief. “Fuck, you guys. I haven’t done shit for Anna. I need to go shopping, or something.” He scrubbed his fingers through his perfectly styled hair as he thought over his options. _Jewelry? Damn, I think she mentioned wanting a new watch. I can’t remember. I need to start keeping a list in my phone. Or maybe I just need to pay better attention._

“Shopping?” Chester piped in from the couch across the room. He’d lay down there to wait the minute he heard Mike and Brad begin a discussion about lines six and eight not working. He knew once they got started, it could be a while, so he’d settled back to wait to be called into service. He was there to record, not screw around, and he was impatient. He thought the lyrical work was finished, but now Brad was wanting to change things Chester thought had already been agreed upon. And now Mike had gotten distracted by the holiday. “I’ll go shopping for you while you guys finish figuring out what you want me to say. I’m just laying here anyway.”

“You can’t go shopping for me, Ches. Even though you _are_ the best gift giver I know.” Mike looked up, catching Chester’s eyes with a smile. “You always know the right thing to get.”

“Okay, you two,” Dave interjected, “nobody is going anywhere until we get these vocals done. Brad, what word do you want there instead? Chester, get in the booth and get ready. Hey…” His voice trailed off as he looked around. “What happened to Bourdie?” 

“Um… I sent him to get us more doughnuts,” Joe said sheepishly. 

Brad turned and gave Joe a withering stare. “Joe, you know he’s trying to cut back on the sugar. Shoveling jelly-filled donuts down his throat isn’t exactly helping.”

“I hope he brings me back one. I’m gonna text him. I want a strawberry filled,” Chester said, reaching for his phone. “I’m serious, Mike, if you need some last minute help, we’ll go after we get this track done. I, of course, have already fulfilled my husbandly duties of making this the best Valentine’s Day ever.” He started to make his way toward the vocal booth, eyes on his phone. “Anybody else want a doughnut?”

Shaking his head no, Dave kept whistling the melody to remind Joe which song they were working on, while Brad looked over the lyrics again. Mike was still in a state of despair over the romantic holiday he’d forgotten. “No doughnuts for me, Ches,” he mumbled, eyes flicking over to Brad. They needed to agree quickly so the vocals could get finished and he could figure out what to do. “Alright, Bradford. What’s going at the end of these lines?” 

By the time Rob returned with the doughnuts, Joe was halfway through a sketch of a mermaid and Chester was pacing the vocal booth impatiently. Every word Brad had suggested felt wrong. Mike sat back, watching Joe with his doughnut and sketchbook, and wished he’d asked for a doughnut after all. 

Chester swooped out of the vocal booth and descended upon his doughnut as though it had been weeks since he’d eaten. He was licking a stray bit of jelly off his thumb when his eyes caught Mike’s. “You look like you wish you’d gotten a doughnut,” he said, leaning over and waving the doughnut at Mike and Brad.

“Move that doughnut away from the console,” Mike warned, “that jelly looks dangerous.”

Scooting around the electronics, Chester tore a piece off his doughnut and stuck his hand out. “Here. I’ll share.” 

Mike couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Ches. Sorry we’re keeping you waiting.” The strawberry jelly filled doughnut was tasty, and Mike eyeballed the rest of Chester’s pastry. He wanted another bite but didn’t want to ask for it. 

“I can wait all day if there’s doughnuts,” Chester declared, ripping another piece off and handing it to MIke. “I told you to get one, but noooo, you just want to eat off mine.” 

Popping the bite in his mouth, Mike turned back to the computer screen. “Next time just get me one anyway,” he said before he nudged Brad’s arm with his elbow. “We about ready for this?”

“Yeah, here, Chester, take this lyric sheet. I’ve crossed through the lines we changed in red, I can print another if you need it cleaner.” Brad held out the paper and Chester snatched it with his free hand.

“Nah, this is fine. Let’s do this.” Stuffing the rest of the doughnut in his mouth, Chester grabbed a bottle of water and made his way back into the vocal booth. 

Once they were several takes in, with everyone picking every detail apart, Mike was becoming antsy. The longer this took the less time he had to fix his problem of having no Valentine’s Day gift. He had just taken a new copy of lyrics to Chester and settled back down in the chair as everyone listened to the last track, when Rob spoke up.

“I’m not sure I like that rest there. Maybe another note or something?” He looked at Brad, who nodded thoughtfully. 

Mike could feel the anxiety building in his chest. Everyone else was so relaxed, so prepared for the evening, and he had nothing. He hadn’t even thought to have flowers delivered. He leaned over and pressed the button that allowed him to talk to Chester, who had both hands over his head in the booth and was staring out at them, also looking rather impatient. “Hey, Ches? Bourdie wants you to fill that rest in the last line with a note… can you wing it?”

Everyone heard Chester’s sigh as he looked down at the lyrics. “Yeah, okay. Just tell me when.”

“This is it, you guys, I feel it,” Mike said as he pulled up a new track. “Alright Ches, here it is.”

It wasn’t it. And by the time all six of them agreed on the track, Joe’s mermaid was part of a complete beachside scene, and Mike was ready to pull his hair out. It was already two o’clock, and he was meant to be home at one. _And I still need a gift, fuck! I’ve been doing so much better at home, damn it!_

For probably the first time ever, he wasn’t the last one out of the studio, grabbing up his jacket as soon as he pressed save on the track, and telling the guys goodbye in a rush. He was already out the door and to the parking lot before he heard Chester yell his name.

“Mike!”

He stopped and turned, calling back to Chester, “man, I have to go, I’m late home and I need to go gift shopping. I’m already in trouble, Ches. I’m actually thinking I should just go home and get her something tomorrow. I don’t know.” Mike started walking toward the cars as soon as Chester caught up with him.

“C’mon, Mikey, I’ll go with you. Anna won’t have to know you forgot, you’ll be coming in with a gift. That’s better than producing one tomorrow, trust me. Got any ideas?” Chester glanced over at the emcee, who had stuffed both hands in his hoodie pockets as they walked.

“I don’t know, Ches, I have no idea what she wants. I’m the worst gift giver ever.”

“That’s not true,” Chester protested quickly. “You always give me the best gifts. Always something I didn’t know I wanted until I was holding it. You’re good like that, at reading my mind. You’ve just got to get inside Anna’s.”

Mike stopped in the parking lot, at his white Mercedes SUV next to Chester’s sleek black sports car. _It’s easier to buy gifts for Chester than it is for my own wife._ The realization hit him suddenly, and he couldn’t help but gape momentarily at the other man before his teeth came out to grab at his bottom lip. _I am literally the worst husband, ever._ “I have no idea,” he finally said again, staring at Chester. “I can’t think of a thing she’s said she wants.”

Without missing a beat, Chester slid between their cars and put his hand on the passenger door handle of Mike’s. “I guess you’ll just have to give her something she didn’t know she wanted,” he said, tugging at the handle. “Open up. Let’s go together, in case inspiration hits. It will be easier in the same car.”

Still looking at Chester with an odd feeling in his stomach, Mike nodded, walking to his door. As soon as he started the car, Chester was fiddling with the radio stations until he found his mood. It’s was 80’s pop, and Mike couldn’t help but smile. He knew what was coming - Chester making up his own lyrics on the fly to each and every song that played. 

It wasn’t long before Chester had him laughing while they drove in pursuit of the perfect gift. Suddenly in the middle of a song, Chester threw his hands out. “I’ve got it, Mikey. Let’s go to Tiffany’s.”

“Tiffany’s? Jesus, Ches, there’s a bunch of other places to get jewelry from.” Mike rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Besides, we aren’t exactly dressed for Tiffany’s.”

Chester shook his head. “Who cares? We never dress the part. The best thing is none of those old sales ladies will have any idea who we are. It’s almost anonymous shopping. Which is good, since you _forgot_ Valentine’s Day,” he teased, reaching over to poke Mike in the side before launching into song, yelling it over what was already playing on the radio, “ _and I said! What about - breakfast at Tiffany’s? She said, I think I remember the film and if I recall, I think, we both kinda liked it, and I said, well that’s the one thing we’ve got!_ ” 

Mike glanced sideways at Chester, laughter bubbling up between them. “God, you’re a mess. And I know you’ll keep singing until I say yes.”

“Exactly,” Chester said, getting ready to launch into more of the song when Mike’s hand shot out and covered his mouth with precise aim.

“We’re going, we’re going,” he laughed, “enough!” 

Chester settled back into the seat again, humming along to the song on the radio as Mike navigated them to Tiffany’s. The vocalist had been right, of course. Nobody paid them any mind as they walked in, the lights incredibly bright over the minimalist display cases of diamonds - rings, bracelets, necklaces - and row after row of silver and platinum jewelry, and watches. As soon as they walked in, Mike went to the right and Chester to the left, as though they were taking the stage in concert. With no idea what he was looking for, Mike walked slowly down a few rows, looking in display cases and hoping for inspiration.

A few minutes later, Chester slid behind Mike, his hand trailing across Mike’s lower back as he came to stand on his right, looking down into the display case. Mike was lingering over a collection of watches, and just as Chester was about to pull him toward necklaces and bracelets, one of the older sales ladies stopped in front of them.

“May I show you gentlemen a watch?” she asked, her voice pleasant and low. Chester glanced up to take in her soft pink cardigan over a white blouse, tucked into a gray pencil skirt, her short silver hair tucked behind one ear. His eye lit upon the glittering solitaire necklace she wore, and he thought immediately how lovely it would look on Anna. Just as he made a move to tell Mike he should be looking at something like that, Mike opened his mouth.

He placed his hand on Chester’s, on the top of the display case glass, to move it to the side, and pointed at a watch. “Yes, actually, I’d like to see that one there, under his hand.”

It was a men’s watch, and Chester rolled his eyes. Mike had an obsession for watches, and he was about to tease Mike about it, when the sales lady said, “a lovely choice. And which of you will be trying on the watch?”

“Oh, that’s for me,” Mike said immediately, lifting his hand from Chester’s and sliding the cuff of his shirt up for her to place it on his wrist. It was obvious she had done the action hundreds of times before, and in a matter of seconds, Mike was admiring the watch. “What do you think, Ches?”

“I think that’s not what we’re here for, Mike,” Chester said with amusement in his voice. “We’re on a mission, remember?” He almost felt bad as the light went out of Mike’s eyes. “Let’s put that on a list for later, okay?”

“You’re right,” Mike said regretfully, holding his wrist out again for the lady to take it off.

She’d just nestled the watch back into the display case when she looked at the both. “What exactly are you gentlemen interested in today?” she asked. Before either of them could answer, she gasped. “Your wedding rings are lovely, gentlemen. Are they Tiffany’s? We do love to honor our repeat customers with a small discount,” she gushed, leaning over to inspect Mike’s hand.

“Um, no, I don’t think mine is,” Mike said, looking at Chester. “Yours?”

“I have no idea,” Chester responded with an unconcerned shrug.

“Well, one of you had to purchase them,” the sales lady said with an indulgent smile. “What’s you last name, I can look you up in our computer.”

It dawned on Mike suddenly and swiftly that she thought their rings matched. “Oh… oh, no, wait,” he said, pulling his hand back from her gaze. “These, our rings aren’t matching,” he said, pointing a finger between himself and Chester. “I mean, they look a lot alike, but our wives didn’t even know each other when mine was bought.” Mike looked at Chester. “I guess Tal could have asked Anna where she got it, but I never really thought they looked that much alike.”

Chester watched as the sales lady’s fair cheeks turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, my, I am so sorry,” she apologized, embarrassment evident in her voice. “I thought you were… I mean, I thought your rings… I… um…” 

As she tried to regain her composure, Chester smoothly stepped in. “They _do_ look very much alike,” he assured her, smiling kindly, “but it’s just coincidence.”

Mike was smiling in amusement as he turned away and let Chester handle the blushing woman behind the counter. _He’s far better at that that I am,_ he thought, looking around, hoping something for Anna would catch his eye.

He made his way back over to Chester, just in time to hear him say, “please, Patricia, it’s okay. We are not at all offended.” As Mike came back to his side, he looked his way with a smile and asked, “did you see anything?” Chester locked eyes with Mike, who still appeared to be considering which direction to go. 

Just as he was about to step in again with a suggestion, Mike said, “pearls. What about pearls, Ches?”

“That sounds nice,” Chester agreed, “or you could go with a diamond solitaire, like Patricia’s.” He flicked his eyes in the direction of the sales lady. “It’s a pretty necklace, isn’t it?” 

Mike shook his head. “She’s already got a necklace like that,” he answered. “But a strand of pearls… that’s classy. And I know she doesn’t have any.”

The sales lady giggled softly before she said, “are you buying for your wife?” She looked back and forth between the two men, amusement on her face.

“Yeah, this one here forgot it was Valentine’s Day,” Chester said, pointing his thumb at Mike with a grin. “We’re trying to keep him out of the doghouse.”

Mike shrugged, a charming, apologetic smile on his face. “What can I say, sometimes I can’t read a calendar.”

She laughed again, and a look of relief washed over her face. “I know just the perfect thing. If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

As she disappeared into the back, Chester turned to Mike, amusement in his voice. “She thought we were _together_ ,” he whispered, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“I know,” Mike whispered back. “That’s so weird. Nobody has ever thought that before.” He looked down at his wedding ring, then poked at Chester’s with his index finger. “Just because our rings are similar. Can you believe that?” 

Chester shook his head. “People are so crazy,” he concluded, just as Patricia came back to where they were standing. 

“Do you like these?” she asked, holding out a padded clamshell case with a double strand of white pearls nestle inside. “This is a very classic look, and the length looks lovely on most women.”

Mike nodded, his mind quickly made up. “Yes, those are perfect. Don’t you think, Ches? Anna will love those.”

“Absolutely,” Chester agreed. “Patricia, he’ll take them. Do your magic with that gorgeous Tiffany’s blue box, will you?”

Fifteen minutes later, they were out the door, Anna’s necklace gift wrapped inside the signature Tiffany’s blue bag.

“You don’t even have to wrap it,” Chester said. “Women fucking love seeing that bag.”

“I still can’t get over the fact she thought we were together,” Mike said as they got in the car. “Just goes to show you how out of touch with good music she is,” he laughed, “she had no idea who we were.”

“I told you she wouldn’t,” Chester agreed, holding his left hand out and examining his wedding ring. “You know, I’ve never given it much thought, but I could see how someone who didn’t know us could mistake these for matching rings.”

Mike’s laughter died off as he started the car, and the radio came to life in the silence. “Oh, come on, Ches,” he said, his voice a little husky, “I don’t think so.”

“Let me see.” Chester leaned over the center console and reached for Mike’s left hand, pulling it over and holding it next to his own. They both looked down at their hands in silence, Chester’s thumb stroking over Mike’s fingers. It was true, and it seemed impossible that neither of them had noticed before. Up close, under scrutiny, their wedding rings had only one subtle difference. The diamonds in Chester’s band were slightly larger. That was it. It was easy to see, now that they were looking, how they could be mistaken for a matching set. “Look at that. Six years I’ve been married to Tal, and we never noticed.”

It seemed like the atmosphere in the car was suddenly warmer, and Mike wanted to turn the air up higher, but he couldn’t move his hand from Chester’s grip. “Yeah,” he breathed, his head swimming with thoughts that he couldn’t say out loud, “crazy, isn’t it?” He looked up and his eyes caught Chester’s, inches apart. 

They looked at each other for a moment, silent, Chester’s thumb still moving over Mike’s fingers. Mike had no idea at that moment Chester was remembering that one kiss, months ago in London, a kiss he didn’t even know had happened. He had no idea that Chester wanted to close that space between them and connect their lips again, to feel that gentle warmth and soak up that affection he could never get enough of when they were living their day to day lives as best friends and bandmates. He had no idea how close Chester was to just saying fuck it and kissing him in the parking lot of Tiffany’s on Valentine’s Day. 

The bag holding Anna’s pearls slipped from where Mike had dropped it on the seat and fell to the floor.

Chester looked down at the bag, and squeezed Mike’s hand. “Yeah… crazy.” He swallowed hard and dropped Mike’ hand to reach for the bag. “Let’s go, Mikey. The wives await.”

Mike watched Chester pick up the bag, feeling the loss of his touch and something else, the electricity between them broken like an interrupted circuit. “Yeah,” he said, looking in the rearview mirror at his flushed cheeks, “let’s get you back to your car.”

**********

It was strange when Anna didn’t seem to care that Mike was home late, coming in the back door in a rush and handing her a huge bouquet of yellow roses. No red roses for his wife - yellow were her favorite - and he always thought how lucky he was to escape the search for red roses at the last minute, whenever flower giving was expected. She’d taken them with a smile and a lingering kiss, and he’d played with the kids while she made his favorite dinner that evening. He wanted to wait to give her the pearls, to open a bottle of wine, and have a romantic evening alone. 

They’d read bedtime stories and cuddled their children, and Mike had kissed everyone good night and gone downstairs ahead of Anna to get his surprise ready. He quickly produced the blue Tiffany’s bag, uncorked the wine, and carried both items and two empty glasses to the coffee table before he settled in to wait. He’d even left his phone on the bar in the kitchen. He was going to win at attentiveness on this Valentine’s Day. 

Anna caught sight of the bag as soon as she came into the den a few moments later. “Oh, Mike, you didn’t have to go to _Tiffany’s!_ ” she exclaimed, sitting down on the sofa next to him and sliding her arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

“Only the best, hon, I wanted to give you something really special. I love you, Anna,” Mike whispered as he hugged her back, his hands looped around her small waist. “You deserve more than I could ever give you, I want you to know that. This doesn’t even come close to how much I love and appreciate you.” He let her go and leaned over, handing her the bag and then reaching for the bottle of wine, one of her favorite reds.

“Oh! Oh, wait, Mike, hang on,” Anna said, putting her hand out to stop him. “None for me, I, well, I was going to tell you tonight, so…”

Mike paused, looking over at his wife, whose eyes were crinkled in an excited smile. “What’s that? No wine? Anna?” His eyes dropped immediately to her stomach and he sat down the bottle. “Ann, are you?” The joy on Anna’s face was unmistakable. 

“Mike… I’m pregnant!”

He sat, breathless for a moment, as her words sunk in. Pregnant. Again. Abi was barely a year old, and they were going to have another baby. _Another baby! I can’t even imagine!_ He ticked through the dates in his mind, trying to calculate a due date, not realizing he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Mike?” Anna leaned closer, her smile dropping a little. “Honey, I know it’s a bit of a surprise, I was, too.”

The sound of her voice brought Mike out of his shock, and he reached to pull her in tight for a hug. “Yeah, oh, it’s a great surprise, honey. Sorry, I just… I mean, wow, I just wasn’t expecting…”

“Me either,” Anna giggled, her face pressed into his shirt. “I wasn’t even thinking, so soon after Abi, and, well, I’m already almost ten weeks.”

“What? Really?” Mike pulled back and scanned Anna’s stomach again. _Am I that unobservant?_

“Yeah, we’re looking at the very end of August, early September. I already checked,” she added, catching the panic on Mike’s face. “You’ll be home.”

Mike dropped his head, staring at Anna’s stomach. Another baby. He knew he’d love this baby as much as Otis and Abi, but… another child, another person to leave behind every time he went out on tour? It was starting to feel suffocating, all of the responsibilities of home, and he hated himself for thinking that way. He was blessed, and he knew it. 

A flash, a memory of the electricity he’d felt between him and Chester just hours earlier crossed his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thought to go away. Just because there was one thing missing from his home life didn’t make it miserable, he reminded himself. Just because Chester wasn’t there, not the way he was there with Mike when they were on tour, didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy. 

_I was right when I said Anna deserves more than I can give her. I can’t even pay enough attention to her now… God, she deserves more than me, that’s for sure._

With a shaking breath, Mike smiled as he looked up and caught Anna’s eyes, watching her hesitation melt away as she realized he was happy. “Wow, another baby,” he said, sliding his hands into her hair and pulling her in for a gentle kiss. The night wasn’t going to end the way he’d planned, but that was okay. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Anna said as they broke apart, her eyes dropping to the forgotten blue Tiffany’s bag. “Can I open this now?”

Mike nodded, watching as she reached inside and pulled out the blue clamshell case with the white satin ribbon tied around it. Even though he was watching as she opened it, as her face lit up in radiant excitement, he felt miles away. He felt her kiss and her hands as they squeezed him, and he brushed her hair back as she turned and he placed the pearls around her neck, clicking the platinum clasp into place so she could run to the mirror and admire them. He knew he was there, and he knew he was smiling, but inside he felt the weight of all his past decisions pressing him down, further solidifying his life as the Mike that Anna knew, saw, loved. The Mike that the whole world knew.

He felt detached as he watched her, as he tried to smile and say and do all the right things, while his mind kept coming back to the new baby… baby number three, one more link in the chain that bound them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t hate me for how this chapter ends. Mike very quickly comes around to the idea of having another baby, and as you know from Confession, he has a special bond with his youngest child. So don’t worry… it will get better. It just wouldn’t be the conflicted Mike we know if he took everything in stride.


	24. Part Three: Living Things -- Appearances

[May 20, 2012] 

“Twins. _Twins_ , Mike. Jesus. I said I wanted one more, one last try for a little girl. And now twins. For the most absent dad ever. What the _fuck_ , Mike?” 

Chester paced back and forth in Mike’s home studio, his eyes blazing with fear and disbelief as he shoved his hands over his scalp. “I’ve told you before what a shit parent I am. Never home. Kids all over the place, I hardly ever have the boys all together _Fuck. Two_ more? That’s too many fuckin’ kids, Mike. Too fuckin’ many.”

He stopped pacing and turned to Mike, who was sitting wide-eyed in his rolling chair behind the console. Their eyes met and Chester felt like he wanted to scream. He knew how he kept ending up with more kids, he wasn’t stupid about pregnancy. But now that he was about to get the daughter he wanted - _two_ daughters - it all seemed like too much. He needed Mike to say something, anything, to make it all better. He needed Mike to calm him down.

Mike bit his lip as he watched Chester pace the studio. They had arranged to meet at his place to drive to the photo shoot together, and it had thrown Mike off when Chester had insisted they go up to the studio first. He knew they didn’t have a lot of time, but Chester was on edge. Mike had seen it before, the pacing, the anxiety, the fear that was overriding rational thought. He could feel it, and he was usually the person on the receiving end of these meltdowns, Chester’s safe space to talk through what he was feeling, and he knew he was the only person who really understood Chester enough to talk him down. 

“Shit, Ches, you didn’t say that to Tal, did you?” Mike looked up in concern, his voice soft and carefully controlled. Chester had a tendency to speak first and think later, and Mike had learned from recent experience that there was only one way to respond when your wife turned up pregnant… delightfully excited. 

“Fuck, no, I didn’t say that,” Chester spat in this direction before he started pacing again. “I’m not _stupid_ , Mike. That’s why I’m telling _you._ ”

With a sigh, Mike continued to watch Chester pace the length of the room two more times before his shoulders seemed to crumble and his whole body shrank. _There it is. Now he’ll listen._ “Ches,” Mike said, his voice still soft. “Why don’t you sit down. C’mon,” he coaxed, standing up and reaching for the vocalist. “Right here, it’s gonna be okay, I promise. Just sit down.” 

Chester allowed himself to be lead to the couch and he sank down into the cushions, dramatically throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “It’s not, Mike, it’s not going to be okay.” He moved his head back and forth on the cushion. “Girls, Mike. Like, Tal’s going to want me to be home more, and stop cursing, and put a shirt on.” He dropped both hands to his sides, palms up, as though he’d just completely given up.

Despite the woe in his best friend’s voice, Mike smiled gently. “Ches… did she say any of that? Or is that just your head running away with you again?” He reached over and smoothed his palm across Chester’s knee in soothing circles.

“She doesn’t have to, Mike, that’s what you do when you have little girls. You protect them. Right? I don’t see you parading around without a shirt and saying fuck every other word.” Chester’s voice was starting to lose its panicked edge.

“Ches. You know I don’t walk around without my shirt on.” Mike rolled his eyes, even as the relief washed over him. Chester was already on his way down, he could tell from the way he was picking on details that didn’t really matter. If this had been about to turn into a full-blown melt-down, Chester would still be flipping out over the simple fact that there were going to be two babies instead of just one. This was going to be okay, he’d moved on to the trivial already. They might even still make it to the shoot on time.

Chester peeked over curiously at Mike through a slit in his eyes. “Why not? Not even at home? I mean, what you do on stage is your business, but you can’t be free at home? You sleep in just your boxers on tour.” He closed his eyes again and shrugged. 

It was an innocent observation, but Mike felt his cheeks flush anyway. _Yeah, I do. And feeling your body up against my skin is always the best part of my morning._ Mike blinked and shoved away those thoughts. They weren’t on tour and wouldn’t be until next month. He couldn’t afford to go down that road right now, longing to be closer to Chester. He had two small children and a pregnant wife. “I don’t know, I just feel weird walking around the house without a shirt on. Probably a childhood thing. I never once saw my dad without a shirt inside the house growing up. I guess I’ve just adopted that same mentality.” 

They were silent for a few minutes, as Mike’s hand stopped moving and Chester’s hand finally dropped over his, linking their fingers together. “It’s going to be okay, Ches. You’re just freaked out because it’s two babies at once, but it’s going to be fine. Besides, once you get past two kids, what’s the difference in having three or thirteen?” Mike tried to put his smile into his voice, but he could tell Chester wasn’t exactly agreeing with him at the moment. He tried again. “Okay. Maybe not thirteen. But you’ll just have the three at home most of the time. Like me.”

Mike looked over at the closed door to the studio as he dropped his voice lower. This was not a conversation he wanted anyone to accidentally overhear. “Look, I know how you feel. I wasn’t prepared to have another one either, but it’s working out the way it’s meant to, right? Don’t you believe in that? Everything happens for a reason?” He lifted their joined hands and smiled. “At least we’ve got each other, same as always. I _get_ it, Chester, and it’s okay to be upset, even though everyone else expects you to be overjoyed. I was in the same place you’re in right now when Anna told me we were having another.”

He sighed, searching for more things to say that would actually be helpful. It was unreal, in the past few years, how thoughts about his life had shifted from ‘this is what I have always wanted’ to ‘this is what I am supposed to want.’ There was a lot of experience there to draw on that might help Chester calm down, but none of it was coming to mind immediately. Mike knew he’d started the path of marriage and family with good intentions, but as he navigated his thirties, he felt more and more discontent with how it was going. 

It was a nagging discontent, a feeling that there was something missing, something else that he wanted that could make him happier. A whisper in the back of his mind reminded him when he was alone that what he wanted was Chester, but that was unattainable. Wrong. He’d already figured out that restless feeling went away on tour, and it was easier to accept that he loved the road life than it was to accept that maybe he wasn’t as keen on his perfect home life as he tried to make it seem. That maybe he wanted Chester instead. Anna was happy, the children were happy, his parents were happy… why couldn’t he be happy with his marriage and family? 

And maybe Chester wasn’t as happy with his home life either? Or were they both just feeling the strain of trying to be good fathers when they spent so much time away from their kids? And adding more kids to the mix just seemed impossible? 

Contemplating the current state of their lives would take more time than they had at the moment, and reluctantly Mike tried to focus back on the matter at hand. The pressing matter of Chester worrying about babies, about his ability to be a good dad. He squeezed their fingers together as he asked, “do you remember what you told me before Otis was born?” 

Chester’s eyes were focused on their hands and he shook his head. “I think so. Something about not knowing what love is until you’re holding your child.” Mike’s hand felt strong, secure, comforting as he held on to him. 

“Right,” Mike nodded. “And you were so right. There’s nothing that compares to holding a baby in your arms, your own baby. You _love_ babies, Chester. And you’re an awesome dad. Stop selling yourself short.” Mike pulled Chester over and wrapped his arms around the vocalist, ghosting his lips over Chester’s temple. “Your kids love you, you know. For everything that you are. Not what they wish you could be, or think you should be. They love you for you.” He squeezed Chester close and felt arms encircle him as well.

They sat like that for a few moments, silent, lost in their own thoughts. Mike knew Chester would calm down and get excited over the babies. By the time he and Anna found out they were expecting another girl, Mike had already moved past the anxiety and into planning mode, and discovering he was to have another daughter had shifted something inside him. He was meant to have these children, it was in the bigger plan for his life that he couldn’t control, and he was going to make sure his baby girls grew up knowing they were loved by him. He was going to pour love into their little souls, and Otis too, and he knew Chester would do the same. It was natural, in his opinion, to be a little freaked out about having another baby. 

“Everything happens for a reason,” Chester whispered, doubtfully. “I guess I think that,” he said, his body sagging against Mike’s. “I mean, we’re only sitting here now because I let that kind of mentality talk to me when I got that demo tape. Everything happens for a reason,” he repeated again before he went silent, thinking, remembering, savoring the feel of Mike’s body wrapped around him. 

“It’s going to be fine, Chester. You’ll see. Even if it seems scary now. There’s a lot scarier things that have happened in the past thirteen years than having two babies at one time, and we’ve made it through.” Mike paused for a moment. “Three babies at once,” he clarified. “Tal and Anna are only a few weeks apart. We’ll have our hands full, for sure.” He ran one hand down Chester’s back before he released their embrace, sitting back to peer at Chester’s face. “You okay, now? You know we should probably get going. We’re going to be late.”

Chester nodded his head and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. It was just a shock, you know? That appointment this morning, and then the photo shoot… same old shit, Mike. I just want to be good enough for them, you know?” He looked up and hesitated, caught in the depths of Mike’s expressive eyes. He wanted to just bury himself in the comfort of Mike’s arms and wait out the panic, but that panic was already subsiding and they had work to do. No sense sitting there milking the situation. 

“I know, Ches,” Mike said softly, reaching out to pat at Chester’s knee again, only this time his hand landed in the middle of Chester’s thigh. “You are good enough for them, for me, for the guys… you are. I know I can say it a million times and it’s hard for you to believe, but it’s true. And we’re gonna be fine. The babies will be fine.” 

As they looked at each other, Mike moved his hand away, clearing his throat. “C’mon, we need to go. Let’s not keep the guys waiting anymore. If you want we can go out after the shoot and grab a bite, talk it out some more. I don’t have any plans other than a little mixing this afternoon.” He gestured to the computer. “You’re welcome to hang here, too, if you want, before you go back home. Sometimes all we need is a little space to get our head in a better place to make things right.”

Mike stood up, holding his hand out for Chester to take again, and Chester didn’t hesitate. “Let’s get Chinese after and bring it back here. Then you can work while I stuff myself with egg rolls.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Mike laughed at him.

“See? It’s going to be fine. Egg rolls later, it’s a deal,” Mike said, pulling Chester up off the sofa, then dropping his hand to pick up his sunglasses and keys from the desk. 

As Mike moved toward the door, Chester reached out and tugged the back of Mike’s shirt. “Mikey,” he said, bringing his friend back around to face him. “Thanks. I know I was over reacting a little.”

A soft smile crept over Mike’s face as he looked at Chester. “Maybe a little,” he agreed, poking Chester in the stomach playfully. “But I get it, I do.” Mike’s voice turned serious. “I’m always here to listen, Chester, you know that. And I’ll never judge you for the things you think about. You can trust me.”

“I know,” Chester responded. “That’s why I always come here.” He caught his breath as he looked at the love evident on Mike’s face. What he had with Mike meant so much. He could always count on him to be there, no matter what. Mike was the rock in his life. Mike always knew what to say, how to make things better. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Mike, but he was grateful for him. “Let’s go. Let’s go fake some smiles for the camera.”

Mike’s eyebrows furrowed, and he was about to argue with Chester’s chosen words, but instead he simply nodded. It was true, some days they just had to fake it. 

**********

Four members of Linkin Park stood against the white backdrop of the photography room in the high rise they’d booked for the next album’s promo shots. It was ten minutes past the time they were supposed to start shooting, which meant it was thirty minutes past time for Mike and Chester to have already been there, and changed clothes. Dave glanced at the doorway again, hoping to see his two bandmates coming in before Brad completely lost his cool. 

“They’re not here, so we get to decide. Black and gray it is. Chester is going to have to live with it.” Brad looked at their wardrobe people and shrugged before he glanced at his watch again. “We’re behind schedule, and this needs to be done today. I’ll text them again, no idea why they can’t respond to a text message.” 

“You know when they show up, if Chester isn’t feeling it, we’re all going to have to change,” Dave grumbled as he took the black button down handed to him and started to put it on.

“He’ll be feeling it. He’s always feeling black,” Brad dismissed, taking the shirt he was being offered by a different woman. “Once we get started with the individuals pictures it won’t matter what he thinks. We’ll already be too far in for us to stop everything and change.”

Rob was listening as he started to change clothes, pulling the dark gray t-shirt on before sliding into the black trench jacket. “You know that’s not true. If Chester wants to change, it will change.”

“And why is that?” Brad snapped. “Because we let him. If he wants to control the fashion, they need to be on time.” He was on edge for some reason, and he liked to think that it was just because one-third of Linkin Park was late to their promo shoot for the next album. It wasn’t because it was Mike and Chester who were late again, Mike and Chester who couldn’t spend ten seconds apart lately. 

“Have you guys realized that we never refer to Mike and Chester individually anymore? It’s always _they_.” Three pairs of eyes turned to Joe as he shrugged into a different version of a black jacket. He stopped messing with the lapels as Dave, Rob, and Brad stared at him. “What?”

“Just… what you said. I guess I hadn’t realized it,” Dave said, as Brad stood with his mouth agape, his fingers frozen over the buttons on his shirt. “But you’re right. Now that I think about it, they’re always showing up together - on time, or not.”

Rob pulled his glasses off and ran his long fingers through the front of his hair, looking at his reflection in the glass of the window next to them. “It must be Chester making them late. Mike’s never late,” he said quietly, fussing over the way his hair was laying against the collar of the jacket. “Man, I hate jackets. Can’t I just wear a t-shirt?” he asked, his mellow eyes drifting toward their wardrobe lady.

Having regained the ability to button his shirt, Brad scoffed as his long fingers moved down the front of the garment. “They’re always together. It’s like Mike and Chester, and then the rest of us. We should put them in the back in this shoot. Just for being late. And no, Bourdie, you have to wear the jacket. We’re all wearing jackets.” 

“You know they can’t go in the back. It will make Bourdie look like a giant,” Joe teased, slicking his short bangs down as he winked at the drummer. “Besides, can you imagine the diva fit Chester would throw?”

Dave laughed as he pictured Chester’s face if they told him to stand in the back. “You know it would be one of those things where he’d go so over the top of rock-star diva that the crew wouldn’t take him seriously, but we’d all know he meant it. He’s good at walking that line.” 

“And Mike would be right there to stop us from agitating him even more. ‘Ches, just calm down’,” Joe mimed, channeling his best pleading Mike Shinoda voice, complete with both palms raised in supplication. “You guys need to find something else to worry about.” He looked around the group with stern eyes. 

Everyone but Brad laughed, continuing the imaginary conversation between Mike and Chester as they waited for the pair to show. Brad was ticking off boxes in his head of just how many times Mike and Chester had been late recently. How many times he’d stopped by to see Mike and Chester was already there. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to work on vocals independently of the group, but it seemed to Brad they had been more and more immersed in each other as of late. Maybe it was just his imagination, or his jealousy was coloring what he’d been seeing. 

“Well, look who’s strolled in, finally.” Dave’s wide grin took the sting from his words as he fist bumped Chester. “What took you guys so long?”

“Sorry we’re late,” Mike offered immediately, his eyes trying unsuccessfully to catch Brad’s from across the room. 

Chester took a second to look around at what was happening before he offered a smile. “Just can’t manage the clock, that’s all. Totally my fault. This is all looking very serious.” He pointed at Brad, who was already having individual photos taken, his face expressionless. “I see you guys got started.” He could feel MIke behind him, hovering as he assessed the scene as well.

“Yeah, Brad got his panties in a twist over you guys being late,” Joe offered as he looked over the latecomers. “Decided for us that we were going with black and to hell with it. Elisa must be riding his ass about not being home, or something. He’s been irritating all afternoon.” He patted down the front of the pullover jacket he’d been instructed to change into. It was better than the collared jacket he’d had on, but it still felt stiff.

“I guess we better catch up, Mikey,” Chester said, pulling off his t-shirt and reaching for the v-neck shirt he was being handed. “You better get with it.” He nodded his head in the direction of the stylist’s other hand, where she was holding out the first of what would probably be many layers for Mike.

“We’ve been good,” Mike argued as he took the dark gray cardigan and put it over his black t-shirt. “This album has been nothing like the last one. It’s not taking as long, the songs are coming together faster, it’s almost finished. I’m mixing a few things this afternoon and it’s practically done.” He frowned slightly as he was handed a black outer layer, but he put it on anyway. “He’s probably mad about something else. You never know with him. What do you think, Ches?” he asked, turning for Chester to inspect his attire.

“Hot,” Chester responded with a glance as he pulled a striped hoodie over his head. “I’d do you.”

Mike cocked his head, his eyes wide, as Joe burst out laughing. “Chester, you’re ridiculous… hey, wait… why does he get to wear a hoodie?” Joe whined as he turned and took a step toward the stylist, leaving the group behind.

Recovering himself quickly, Mike gestured at Rob, who had fallen into place beside Dave. “Now, Rob, here, he’s the hot one. It’s a good thing they put him in the back, Ches, or nobody would ever even look at us.”

“He’s a handsome guy,” Chester nodded as he took a seat and smirked up at Mike and Rob.

“You’re lucky you got here when you did,” Dave chuckled, “Brad’s already threatening to put you two in the back as punishment for being late.

“He’s not in charge of that,” Chester said airily. “I’ll stand where I want.”

“Right now we’re waiting on Brad, then you’ll get your turn,” Rob said, fidgeting with his collar again. 

Mike sat down next to Chester, glancing over his chosen attire quickly. They were dressed alike, except he had on gray jeans to Chester’s black. Chester seemed to be in a better mood, and Mike relaxed back into the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee as they chatted and goofed around. He was the last to take his individual shots, then there were a few wardrobe changes before they took their group photos - Chester, of course, in the front.

Throughout the afternoon, Brad never commented on their lateness, just followed directions until the shoot was over and he took the opportunity to corner Mike as he was getting back into his street clothes.

“Hey, you wanna grab a bite before you head home?” He reached for a hanger to put his jacket on, but both the hanger and jacket were grabbed by the stylist before he could do so.

Mike shook his head. “I wish I could, Ches and I are picking up Chinese, gonna be working at my house tonight.” He stopped and looked over at Brad, who seemed annoyed. “You wanna join? I could use another set of production ears.” He didn’t miss how Brad’s lips pressed together into a thin line before he responded.

“No, that’s cool. I’ll come by tomorrow and listen to whatever you come up with. I don’t want to interrupt your alone time.” Brad pulled his hoodie over his head and stood there, a challenge in his eyes as he looked at Mike.

_Alone time? What the fuck is he on about?_ “Brad,” Mike started, his voice low, “we’re just working through some stuff right now… you know how that goes sometimes. He needs to talk.”

“You guys have been spending a lot of time alone talking. Everything okay?” Brad was honestly curious, but he couldn’t help the jealousy that crept into his voice as well. It had been a long time since he and Mike had spent any amount of time together by themselves. Chester always seemed to get the best of Mike, and everyone else - including Mike’s family - seemed to get what was left. He really felt like it was time to say something about it.

“Yeah, things, are fine… just… well, he found out today that Tal’s pregnant with twins, it kinda freaked him out.” Mike looked across the room where Chester was still looking at pictures with Joe. “I know he’ll be fine but you know how he gets. Any unexpected thing can set him in the wrong direction.” He sighed, fidgeting with his fingers as he looked back at Brad. “I just want to keep an eye on him, you know?”

It was Brad’s turn to look away, over at where Chester and Joe were standing. “Yeah, I know. You’re always there to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. When are you going to let him grow up, Mike? You can’t be his keeper forever.”

Mike took a step back. “Wait, what? I’m not trying to be his keeper. I’m his friend. And so are you. And we both know it doesn’t take much for things to get ugly, Brad. Don’t be an ass about it. I invited you over, you can come hang with us or I’ll see you tomorrow, your choice.” He stood with his hands on his hips, an eyebrow cocked as he tried to figure out what Brad’s problem was.

“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” Brad said after a moment of silence. “It’s probably better if you just have your space tonight.” He shrugged it off, side-stepping Mike’s incredulous stare and heading out the door. “See you guys!” he shouted over his shoulder.

There was a chorus of goodbyes from the others as Mike stood there, looking after Brad’s retreating form. He wasn’t sure what to make of what his childhood friend had said, but part of him didn’t want to dig too deeply to try to figure it out, either. It was time for Chinese and mixing, and alone time with Chester. Brad’s drama was going to have to wait. 

With a last glance at the door Brad had disappeared through, Mike made his way over to the photo proofs, his arm slipping effortlessly behind Chester’s back and pulling him away. “C’mon, Ches, let’s go get those egg rolls, I’m ready to get to get this album finished.”


	25. Part Three: Living Things -- Memories

[November 9, 2012]

The album was finished, the tour had begun, and Mike’s daughter had been born. Time was passing in a way that Mike couldn’t slow it down. Couldn’t stop to savor the moments. Couldn’t escape into blissful moments of denial when it came to Chester. They were busy, so busy, with music and interviews, shows and lives, wives and babies.

So when Mike opened his eyes that beautiful summer morning in Cape Town, he was immediately consumed by the way Chester was looking at him. The way time slowed and blurred and all he could see was Chester’s soft, sleepy brown eyes and the slow, sweet smile that crossed his lips. His little bit of curling hair and the way his hand reached for Mike’s in the space that had opened between them over night. He felt peace sink over him in that moment, the first time he’d felt content and relaxed in months. 

“Morning, ‘Noda,” he whispered, and Mike smiled back. 

“Morning, Ches. You look… happy,” Mike said softly, squeezing their fingers together.

“And you look rested,” Chester answered. “You must have slept well last night, you didn’t even move.”

Mike considered for a moment, then said, “nothing like knowing you have the day off and you don’t have to wake up for babies or Brad’s breakfast to leave you feeling rested.” He’d somehow managed to talk their guitarist out of the traditional 8:30 am breakfast they always took as a band on tour. The promise of spending the day together while Chester and Dave went hiking seemed to do the trick.

Chester rolled his eyes. “Brad. It _has_ been nice to sleep in, on this blissful off day in South Africa. You sure you won’t come with us up to Lion’s Head? It promises to be spectacular, Mikey, I can’t believe you don’t want to go.” 

“Chester, we’ve been through this. Hiking way up there is not my thing.” Mike shuddered as he thought of the cliffs. Sure, the scenery would be breathtaking, and he’d love to see it- if someone could just helicopter him to the top. 

“Not even to protect me from going over the side? What then, Mikey? You gonna sing my parts?” Chester pulled his face into mock concern, complete with a pout in the emcee’s direction. 

Mike giggled under his breath. “You’re so dramatic. I more than trust Dave to keep you safe.” He nudged his face into the pillow and closed his eyes against the tempting visual of Chester’s pouty lips. “And nobody is singing anything but you, no worries there.”

They lay in silence for a few moments, their fingers laced together, before Chester whispered, “it’s been the best few night’s sleep, you know? And to know we’re back home soon-”

“Shhh,” Mike said, his eyes cracking open. He moved his arm from under the pillow and placed a fingertip to Chester’s lips. “Stop that. Let’s worry about going home later.”

Chester looked at him for a few moments before the sadness lifted from his eyes and he said, “it’s been fun, this first part of the tour. I love this album.”

“Me too, it’s been fun to do this one live.” Mike contemplated his bandmate for a moment before he asked, “what’s your favorite one to perform off this record so far?”

Chester’s response was immediate. “Lies, Greed, Misery.”

Mike chuckled. “Of course it is.” He shook his head and smiled as Chester shrugged at him. “I love watching you take over Lost in the Echo.”

“Ooh, yeah, that’s a good one for you, too. You’re so…” Chester paused. The word ‘sexy’ came to mind, but he skipped over it in favor of saying, “intense in that one.”

“I could say the same for you, Ches. _Intense._ ” Their eyes held for a few moments, and Mike felt the stirring of desire in his stomach the way he always did when thoughts of Chester singing, screaming, consumed him. He took a deep breath, watching Chester watching him, thinking about things he wanted but couldn’t have.

“You know, we need to eat breakfast. It’s getting late. My stomach is rumbly,” Chester finally said with a wide grin, breaking the tension.

With a heavy exhalation of the breath he’d taken, Mike asked, “what time is it, anyway?”

“I don’t know. We should order room service, though. I really want French toast. God, that sounds good. What do you think?” Chester looked at Mike with childlike, hopeful eyes.

“Room service? Chester. That’s a bit extravagant for breakfast, don’t you think?” They saved room service for tired evenings after shows, when the catering just didn’t cut it, or when they were already hungry again by the time they made it back to the hotel. Breakfast was never something they splurged on the way Chester was suggesting now.

“C’mon, Mikey, I’m not going to see you all day. Please? Brad’s going to have his claws in you all day. Just French toast. You know you want to say yes. Bacon? Syrup?” Chester poked Mike in the stomach and looked at him encouragingly.

“No, Chester, we’re going to get dressed and get this day going. We’ve already spent too much time in bed.” Mike made a move to toss the sheets off and get out of bed, but Chester’s arm reached out, stopping him.

“Wrong. We don’t spend _enough_ time in bed,” Chester said, his voice serious. “If we spent more time in bed you’d be far more rested than you are. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t rather lay here in bed all day than be dragged around by Brad. You never let yourself just _be_ , Mike. Let me order you some bacon while you just lay there. Let yourself relax, hmmm?” 

Mike looked down at Chester’s hand on his arm, swallowing as he felt himself caving, giving in, the way he always did when Chester looked at him that way. He lay down again, this time on his back, an exaggerated sigh accompanying the movement. “Fine. Order some bacon. But I’m not going to do anything, you can answer the door when they get here and bring me my food. And coffee, Ches.” He crossed his arms under his head and rolled his chin over to gaze at Chester. “I’m relaxing, okay?”

With a satisfied smile, Chester reached for the hotel phone. “Ordering now. I’ll wake you up again when the food’s here.”

“I won’t go back to sleep, Ches,” Mike said, even as he yawned and closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, the delicious aroma of fresh black coffee was floating through the room as Chester ran a hand lightly over his forehead, brushing back his messy morning hair.

“Bacon’s here,” he whispered. “And don’t you try to convince me you aren’t tired. You were asleep in seconds.”

“I didn’t even hear you order, Ches,” Mike said as came back into awareness. _He was touching my hair, I felt it._ He cracked his eyes open and looked at Chester, but he was already back at the service cart, moving covered dishes around before picking up two and turning back to Mike. He scooted up in the bed, resting his back against the headboard and reached for the coffee cup Chester had placed on the bedside table. “Okay, you got me. This is better than going down to breakfast. I kinda like having you serve me,” he teased with a wink as Chester plopped a tray down into his lap. “Damn, this smells good.”

“I told you,” Chester said, heading back to pick up his tray and heading back to his side of the bed. “Cartoons?” he asked, nodding toward the television.

Mike laughed as he poured syrup over his French toast. “Sure, Ches, whatever you want to watch.” Always, whatever Chester wanted. Mike picked up a piece of bacon, wishing he was going to Lion’s Head instead of out with Brad. But he owed Brad some quality time, so breakfast in bed was going to have to tide him over until he could climb back into bed with Chester that evening. 

Thinking of the evening ahead, Mike dug into his French toast with a smile as Chester picked up the remote.

**********

“God, I hope they’re being careful. Damnit, I don’t understand why they have to be such risk takers. Especially the way Chester can end up getting hurt just walking and chewing gum at the same time.” Mike grumbled as he and Brad sat outside the cafe, watching as the sun started to sink into the sky. 

They’d spent the day walking around the city, doing a little bit of shopping, talking about everything but nothing really important. It had been much needed time between old friends, and Brad had enjoyed having Mike alone for a while.

Mike without Chester was someone totally different, in Brad’s eyes. There was something about him that was more like the best friend Brad remembered from their grade school days. He worried less, for one thing, but right now, with Chester’s name having crept once again into their conversation, Brad was annoyed. Their carefree afternoon seemed to be slipping away.

“You worry about him too much,” Brad scowled before he blew gently across his teacup. “He’s a grown ass man, Shinoda.”

Mike looked out over the landscape absently, both hands wrapped around his coffee mug as he imagined Chester falling, spraining his ankle or his wrist, or worse. “I know that. I can’t help but worry about him. He’s so… fragile.”

Brad snorted softly and looked at Mike in surprise. “Fragile? Are you serious right now? He could out-benchpress you any day. You aren’t giving him enough credit.” 

“You know what I mean. He’s always hurting himself. And you know how that gets to him… mentally.” Mike cut his eyes over to Brad, waiting. The subject of Chester’s mental health was always a touchy one, something Mike felt like nobody understood really except for himself. Something he felt as though he was always defending when Chester was down. He really didn’t want to argue with Brad right now. They’d had a nice day together.

“Yeah, I know,” Brad said, defeat evident in his tone. “You just… you get so wrapped up in him, Mike. Consumed might be a better word. I worry about you sometimes when you’re down there in the trenches with him. I worry that one day you won’t have enough strength to claw the both of you out. And then what?” He reached over and put his hand on Mike’s knee. “Things are good right now, but you know how it turns on a dime. How are we going to be able to save the both of you if you don’t even recognize that you need saving, Mike?”

Instantly Mike was on the defensive, his eyes zeroing in on the familiar touch of Brad’s hand on his body. A touch that he no longer welcomed the way he once had, back when Brad’s hands were softer, less calloused, back before the lines had been established between their carefully cultivated adult friendship and their past. “Is this what’s been on your mind the past months, Delson? You think I’m too caught up in Chester to protect my own mental health?”

“I just know what it’s like when you fall that hard, Mike… and when it’s not… reciprocated.. the way you want. I see how you look at him, you know. I’m not blind to it like the others.” Brad felt his face growing hot as he dared to stick a toe in the secret water that was their adolescent relationship. 

Mike looked up, catching Brad’s uncomfortable gaze. “It’s not like that, Brad,” he said softly, shaking his head slowly. “We’re married, for Christ’s sake. Children, I mean… I just had another baby. Chester’s got twins on the way. It’s not like that.” 

“Mike…” Brad’s voice trailed off as they looked at each other, Brad’s eyes soft with the memories that Mike was trying to forget. “You know, we’ve never really talked about it…”

Mike looked away. “We aren’t going to either. It’s in the past, Brad.”

Several minutes passed, Brad’s hand growing warmer, heavier on MIke’s knee as neither of them spoke. Both of them remembering. Remembering late nights on the roof, wandering hands, sloppy kisses that eventually turned into hot, writhing bodies on the game room couch, teenage erections pressed together through layers of clothing, hot demanding kisses that begged for more. Quick, tumultuous orgasms just from grinding together, never by their own hands. 

Brad swallowed, pushing away the memories. “I know how you are, Mike. These hours, holed up with Chester, writing, creating… everything you do with him creatively makes those bonds deeper, stronger. I remember what it was like when we-”

“Don’t.” Mike interrupted. “The way Chester and I are has nothing to do with the way you and I were.”

_Were._ Brad couldn’t pretend that didn’t sting a little bit. “Mike,” he said softly, “don’t you remember? Sitting in your parent’s house, working on those demos together? The way we celebrated getting things right?”

“Of course I remember,” Mike hissed fiercely, his voice a low whisper. “Why are we talking about this? Chester and I don’t celebrate the way you and I did. I learned the lesson you taught me well, Bradford. There’s no room in Linkin Park for _love_ , don’t you think I know that?” He picked up his coffee mug and took a long swallow, avoiding eye contact. “Don’t you think I learned not to confuse those things when you left me?”

Slowly Brad pulled his hand away from Mike’s leg, and he sat there for a minute, his heart racing. “Are you still bitter about that, Mike? You know we made the right choice. You know we would have never gotten this band off the ground if we’d been together. You _know_ that.”

Mike finally looked at Brad, his eyes troubled. “I’m not bitter about it, no. I’ve let all of that go, Brad, it’s like those things happened to totally different people. But you hurt me, and you know it…” A few silent moments passed between them, Mike challenging Brad to disagree. “We’ve never needed to talk about it. Who knew this would become what it is, that we’d be together so much after you ended things between us. I’ve been over it a long time, Brad. I moved on, and you have too. You’ve got to stop this jealousy with Chester. It can’t be the thing that finally tears us apart, not after everything else we’ve been through, everything we’ve put away in the interest of the band.”

It was Brad’s turn to look away. He’d never really intended to confront MIke about his relationship with Chester, and he wished he had held his tongue. Pulling up old memories right now only gave him thoughts about the way Mike had kissed him all those years ago. Thoughts that he only visited on rare occasions, like that one kiss he’d stupidly, drunkenly landed on Mike’s soft lips the night their record deal was signed. He remembered the betrayal he’d seen in Mike’s eyes that night, and he’d promised himself right then he’d never let anything slip between them again. He’d managed to keep those thoughts well hidden until right now. 

Mike took Brad’s silence and ran with it. “It’s been fifteen years. You made those choices for us, and you can’t get upset over it now. What Chester and I have, what we do, it’s all about the music, Brad. That’s all. Stop trying to make us into something we aren’t. Stop seeing _our_ past in me and Chester.” 

Something twisted inside Mike as he spoke, knowing full well he was lying to his oldest friend. It was starting to become undeniable, the love between him and Chester. But was he _in love_? It didn’t seem that anything he felt for their vocalist could be labeled so easily. 

Mike stood up, thinking it over before he extended his hand to Brad. “This is over. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

Slowly, Brad nodded his head, reaching for Mike’s outstretched hand. He was surprised when Mike pulled him up into a close hug, his lips near Brad’s ear. He felt the warmth of his breath as Mike whispered, “I love you, you know that. Promise me you’ll let this go.” He didn’t clarify if he meant his past with Brad, or Brad’s jealousy of Chester, but it didn’t matter. Either, or both, was exactly what he meant.

With a regretful sigh, Brad squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath. “Promise,” he agreed, wishing he’d never brought the subject up at all.

**********

It was already dark outside before Mike heard Chester return from his hike, and he felt his knees almost give way in relief as the outside door to Chester’s room shut heavily. He’d given up sketching a half hour ago and resorted to pacing to try to calm the anxiety he was feeling. There was just something about the impossible height of the climb that had Mike beside himself with worry.

_It’s not what Brad said. It’s not because I’m in love with Chester that I can’t concentrate._ It was ridiculous to even think about. He wasn’t _in love._ He loved Chester, but he wasn’t in love with him. That just couldn’t happen.

As soon as he heard the shower turn on in Chester’s room, Mike sat back down at the little desk in the corner, flipping to a new page in his sketchbook and losing himself in the art of creation. Time always seemed to go by faster when he was drawing, and before the water stopped, Mike had fleshed out an entire scene. Chester in the vocal booth at home, screaming soundlessly into the mic, both hands covering his headphones, his flames flowing down away from his wrists. He was shading one of the flames when Chester poked his head through the adjoining door. Mike quickly flipped the sketchbook closed and scooted it under his backpack on the desk.

“Hey!” Chester said brightly. “Wanna see my pictures from today? Oh, Mike, you would have loved it up there!” he gushed, not waiting for an invitation into the room. Waving his phone at Mike, he dropped onto the bed. “You totally should have come. It was less than two hours to the top, and the weather was spectacular! Like, I don’t know what the actual temperature was, but it was like the most perfect day you could imagine in LA.”

With a glance to be sure his sketchbook was safely put away, Mike padded over to the bed, smiling at Chester’s excitement. “I probably should have come with you, but Brad and I had a good time in the city. I bet if you squinted hard enough you could have seen us,” he teased, laughing when Chester stuck his tongue out at him.

“I totally kicked Dave’s ass climbing up there, too. There were places with chains and shit, Mike, and I was like a machine! Totally killed it!” He was concentrated on his phone, thumbing through pictures to find the best ones as he congratulated himself over his physical prowess.

Mike smiled wryly as he asked, “no injuries, then?” sitting down close to Chester, their thighs brushing together.

“No, aren’t you proud? Not even a scrape on my hands,” Chester said, shoving his phone into Mike’s hands. “Just look at that, Mike, look at the view. You can see everything from up there!”

It _was_ a rather amazing view of the city, Mike had to admit, the ocean in the background of it all. He flicked through a few of the pictures before he remarked, “I’d like to paint this for you, Ches. It looks like a good challenge for me.”

“I’m sure you’d have no problem with it,” Chester said, reaching to flip to another picture. It was a selfie, the city and ocean behind him. “I was so close to the edge here,” he chuckled, and Mike felt his breaths freeze. “Dave kept telling me to come back. But I got Mark to shoot some footage up there of us for LPTV, it’s gonna be wild. It looks like we’re literally on the edge of the cliff.”

“God, Ches, I told you to be careful,” Mike admonished, feeling a bit of nausea roll over him. “What would we do without you?”

Chester fluttered his hands in the air. “Please. I’m fine. I swear, you guys all hover over me like I could just fall apart at any moment.” 

“Well, you have been known to break a bone here and there, can you blame us?” Mike smiled to take the edge off his words as he handed the phone back to the vocalist. “The pictures are awesome, Ches, I’m glad you had a good time. I bet you’re tired. Did you guys eat?”

Mike stood up to walk around the side of the bed. He was ready to lay down and relax, now that Chester was back safely. The waiting, the conversation with Brad, had left him emotionally drained.

“Yeah, we stopped and ate on the way back from the hike. And I am beat, wow. Although,” he paused, watching Mike pull back the blankets. “I do kinda feel like dessert,” he said, hoping Mike would say yes.

“No more room service today,” Mike said, sliding into bed. “You could go down and get ice cream from the shop if you want. I won’t say no to ice cream.”

“Ice cream… okay, yeah, I’ll do that.” Chester patted the pocket on his flannel pajamas. “I don’t have my key, you wanna let me back in?”

“Just use the deadbolt and prop it open,” Mike suggested as he piled pillows against the headboard. “Once I lay down I’m not getting back up. You better hurry, you remember how fast I fell asleep this morning.”

“I’ll be quick,” Chester promised, disappearing through the door after he engaged the deadbolt, leaving it propped open a crack.

He was back faster than Mike anticipated, tossing him an ice cream sandwich and crawling into bed beside him after properly locking up the room for the night. “Perfect. This is the way to end the day, for sure.” Chester peeled the wrapping off his dessert and sighed with happiness. “The only thing that would have made it better is if you’d been there. That view… pictures don’t do it justice, Mike. You should have come.”

Mike couldn’t sigh, his mouth was full of ice cream. He rolled his eyes instead, chewing for a second before he swallowed and said, “I needed to hang with Brad some, you know. It’s good for us to do things separately sometimes, Ches. Makes you appreciate my company.” Mike winked at Chester before he took another bite.

There was a huff, followed by Chester’s free hand smacking him in the side before the vocalist said, “I always appreciate your company, Mikey. It’s the whole reason I climb into your bed every night.”

The air in the room changed suddenly and Mike felt warm, despite the fact that the air was as low as he could make it, same as it always was in their hotel room. He wasn’t prepared for another heavy conversation today. Trying to lighten the mood, Mike teased, “I thought you slept here to keep the nightmares away.” 

“That, too,” Chester said simply, licking chocolate wafer off his thumb before settling back onto his pillow. “You can’t tell me you don’t sleep better together when we’re out on the road than you do alone,” he mentioned in a softer voice, his eyes straight ahead.

“Of course I do,” Mike said softly, his heart aching a little in his chest. “I think I sleep better with you beside me than anywhere else, actually.”

“Good,” Chester said with a smile, sliding his glasses off and laying them on the bedside table. “Flip that light off and lay with me then, tell me what you did today.”

Dutifully Mike snapped off the light, sliding down into the bed and pulling Chester close against him. There wasn’t much to say about the day, and he told Chester as much. “We just walked around, being tourists. Shopped a bit, had a bite, drank some coffee… nothing remarkable.” He turned and tangled his legs with Chester’s, getting comfortable.

“Sounds boring,” Chester mumbled, his voice already taking on the edges of sleep. “I talked to Tal,” he said out of the blue, and Mike held his breath, waiting for him to continue. “Babies should wait until we get home in a few days. I hope they do. They just have to make it four more days.”

Mike nodded, feeling his chin bump against the top of Chester’s head, feeling Chester’s breaths across his skin as he talked. “Glad she’s doing well,” Mike responded, feeling his body start to relax into the comfort of the mattress, the comfort of Chester’s weight pressing against his body.

“I wish you could be there with me when they come home,” Chester admitted before cautiously putting an arm around Mike’s waist, hugging him close like a child with a stuffed animal. “Two at once… so scary…”

Mike didn’t know what to say, Brad’s comments from the afternoon ringing in his ears. _We’re not in love. I’m just… his emotional support. We’re each other’s support, there’s nothing wrong with that._ “I’ll be there if you need me, Chester, you know that. I’m always here if you need me.”

“You’ve got Josie-”

“Shhh, Ches,” Mike said for the second time that day. “I know, we’ll be home for a few months, but it will be fine. You’ll be there to help out before we go back on the road. And I’ll be there for you if you need me. There’s enough of me to go around. You’ll see, it will be fine.” Mike hugged him close, his lips barely brushing the top of Chester’s hair, as lightly as he could manage so Chester wouldn’t feel it.

“You’ll be the best God parent ever, you know that? For my baby girls. For Lily and Lila.” Chester was drifting away into sleep, Mike could hear it.

“Yes, I’ll be there for all of you, Ches. And the names are beautiful. Lily and Lila… we’re just days away from meeting them.” Mike felt the weightlessness of sleep taking over. “Go to sleep, Ches, it’s gonna be okay.”

Chester could have sworn he felt Mike’s lips in his hair, gently kissing him as they both fell into contented sleep, wrapped closely together.


	26. Part Three: Living Things -- Tired

[Feb 2, 2013]

“Peanut butter and jelly okay for all the kids?” Anna asked, tossing a look over Abi’s and Noa’s bent heads at Elisa. The two year olds were busy scribbling in coloring books on the floor of the upstairs living area while their moms talked at their sides. 

With a glance down at the almost empty bottle Evan was sucking on, Elisa nodded. “If you’ll wait a few more minutes, I’ll go down and help you. As soon as she’s finished, and I can lay her down. I’m just gonna lay her in the corner of the couch, here. She’s not rolling over yet, it will be fine. Brad?”

Both women glanced over at the small table where Brad and Otis were sitting, Brad’s knees comically high as he sat in the tiny, child-sized chair. 

“Hmmm?” he hummed absently, his eyebrows knit together in concentration as he moved his black piece on the checkerboard.

“I’m going to go help Anna get lunch for the kids, can you keep an eye on Evan over here? She’s almost out, I’m going to let her nap on the couch,” his wife answered. 

“I’ll sit there with her,” Mike offered from his position on the floor. He was laying on his stomach, one hand tucked up under his chin as he watched Josie on her tummy time mat. “Brad’s engrossed in teaching O how to play this checkers game, you know.”

There was an almost equal number of captured red and black pieces to the side of the checkerboard, but Otis had managed to get one of his pieces all the way across. “Now, Otis, I have to crown your guy. You made it to my side.” Brad picked up one of the little red checkers he’d captured and placed it on the little boy’s triumphant checker. “Now you can move forward and backwards with that guy.”

Otis contemplated the checkerboard for a minute, his head tilting to the side as he looked at the game, then over at his father, who was half-heartedly watching the game and keeping watch over the newest Shinoda at the same time. The almost five year old looked back at Brad and said seriously, “so, now I’ll win because my piece is stronger than yours.” 

Jonah piped up from the corner where he was playing with cars on Otis’ roadmap rug. “You won’t win. My dad always wins.” 

“I bet my Papa can beat Uncle Brad,” Otis said proudly, reaching to move his king and steal one of Brad’s pieces.

“Uncle Brad and Papa aren’t allowed to play board games together anymore,” Anna laughed as she glanced over at Elisa. “Neither of them can stand to lose. It never ends well.” 

“Hmmm… I guess we shouldn’t tell her about the tournaments we play while we’re out on tour, Shinoda,” Brad said absently as he plotted his next move.

Mike rolled over to his side and grinned. “Nah, what happens on tour stays on tour,” he said, bending his elbow and propping his hand up on his head. “It’s like a whole different life.”

Brad and Anna both cut their eyes over to Mike sharply, but his eyes were on his baby daughter. He reached out to smooth her dark hair back from her forehead as she smiled and reached for the colorful shapes on her tummy time mat. Mike was completely absorbed in her tiny happy spit bubbles and babbles, oblivious to the alarm bells ringing in both his friend’s and his wife’s head. 

All of the adults were quiet then, but the noise of six children in one room continued around them. Anna had been watching the interaction between Brad and Mike all morning, comparing it to the way she saw Mike with Chester. Everything between the childhood friends rang wholesome. Their goodnatured bickering. The laughs they shared. And most of all, their complete lack of physical contact.

Brad and Elisa had brought the children over for a playdate two hours ago, and in all that time, not once had Anna seen the two men casually reach for each other the way Chester and Mike always seemed to do. Not once had their eyes locked onto each other while they ignored everything else around them. Not one single time had Anna felt like an outsider in their presence.

It was a completely different experience from being around the two frontmen in her own house, the way they seemed to exist in their own realm. Mike, when confronted in past months, continued to play it off as simply being in the zone together. Work. Everything between he and Chester was about the band, and nothing more. But Anna couldn’t help but tally up the brushing fingertips, the number of times Chester caused Mike to throw his head back and laugh deeply, the minutes and hours they disappeared upstairs into the sound-proofed studio to work. There was always _so much work_. 

Anna tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear and watched Elisa gently lay Evan on the couch and cover her with a tiny pink blanket. She watched Abi and Noa flip page after page of their coloring books until they had scribbled on every page, pronouncing them “all done.” She watched Brad eventually win the checker game, and she watched Otis ask question after question about the game, his bright mind needing to analyze every move so he could figure out how to win next time. She watched Mike as he hummed lightly to himself and his fingers played imaginary keys next to Josie. It was what she did more often than not now - watch.

With the checker game over, and Evan asleep, there was no reason to put off lunch any longer. “Let’s go get those sandwiches going,” she said to Elisa, who nodded as she stood up.

“Brad, keep an eye on her, okay?” Elisa touched the very tip of the baby’s nose, a sweet smile on her face as she turned and reached to run her fingers through the top of Brad’s mostly tamed curls.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” Brad answered, laying down on the floor with the girls as Otis joined Jonah with the cars. “Just call us when you’re ready, we’ll get all the monsters downstairs.” He watched their wives as they left to go make lunch, then his eyes settled on Mike, still stretched out next to his baby. 

“You’ve been quiet this morning, Shinoda. What’s going on with you?” 

“Me? Just enjoying the time with the kids. Look at this princess,” he said, his eyes resting on Josie, his voice saturated with admiration. “I’d ask if you’d ever seen a more beautiful baby but I don’t want to hurt Evan’s feelings,” he teased, rolling onto his back and crossing his arms under his head. “I can’t believe we’re leaving out again in a few weeks. Seems like we just got home. I’ll miss this munchkin.”

Brad nodded as he worked on coloring a turtle pink in Noa’s book. “It’s the holidays that do that. And the babies. I’ll never understand how time can move so fast and so slow when you have a new baby.” He lowered his voice and his eyes turned toward the stairs before he looked back at Mike. “We’re done, now, though. Elisa may not know it, but three is enough.”

Mike snorted in amusement. “What do you mean, she may not know it. Either you’ve talked about it, or you’ll be having another baby before our next album is out,” he teased. A pink crayon hit him in the face before he ever saw it coming. He picked it up and tossed it back at Brad’s head, narrowly missing. 

“Nope, we’re done. We’ll have that conversation, don’t you worry. What about you guys?” Brad asked, rolling over to grab the crayon. “Noa, what happened to my turtle? You turned the page? Let’s turn it back and finish one.”

“We’re definitely finished.” Mike said over Brad’s conversation with his middle child. “This one here was enough shock to my system.” He looked fondly over at his youngest. Once you’re closer to forty than thirty, it’s time to stop.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Brad mumbled. “Could have been worse, Mike, you could have gotten surprised with twins. I still can’t believe Chester has six kids now.” The pink crayon was now in Noa’s hand and the page had been turned to one full of ducks. Brad selected a yellow crayon carefully from the pile and started shading one in that hadn’t been scribbled on yet. “How’s that all going, anyway?”

“Tal’s mom has been there helping. Damn, I guess they’re almost three months now. I haven’t seen them since they were about six weeks old, I’ve been busy here… Anna hasn’t exactly been keen about me being away to help them out when we’ve got our own here. Which I understand,” he added hastily. “It’s good Tal’s mom has been there, it’s a bit overwhelming for Ches, I think.” 

The last time he’d seen Chester, the vocalist was past the point of sleep deprived. He had dark circles under his eyes that Mike had stroked a fingertip over as he fretted over Chester’s health. 

_”You’re exhausted, Ches, are you getting any sleep at all?” The thin skin beneath his lower lashes was a bruising purple, and Mike had reached for Chester’s hand right after he’d touched the marks gently._

_“They’re on opposite sleep schedules right now for some reason,” Chester had explained, “but only at night, for some horrible reason,” squeezing Mike’s hand briefly before he turned and lifted a tiny, crying pink bundle from the crib. “Let’s see,” he said, studying her tiny face before agreeing with himself, “yes, this one is Lila. Here.”_

_Mike cradled the baby in his arms, drinking in her tiny frame and her features that reminded him of Talinda. Chester lifted Lily from the crib and together they sat down in the nursery’s rocking recliners._

_“It’s a good thing they’re so beautiful,” Chester mock-complained as they settled in with the bottles. He looked meaningfully at Mike for a moment before he dropped his head back on the chair. “It’s not all their fault, really… I wouldn’t be sleeping well even if they were making it through the night already.”_

_“Ches,” Mike lowered his voice, hoping to not be overheard, “we can’t talk about that now.”_

_“I know,” Chester responded, his voice drowsy. “Just wake me up before you go, Mikey, okay? Don’t leave me without saying bye.”_

_Chester drifted into the kind of nap all parents have been guilty of while holding Lily in one arm and a bottle in the other hand. Mike sat, rocking Lila and her bottle until both babies were asleep, alternating between studying her tiny face and Chester’s familiar one. He carefully laid Lila in the crib, and holding his breath, took Lily from Chester’s arms and lay her down beside her sister. Chester’s eyes had flitted open in panic when Mike lifted the baby from him, but slid back shut as though they were dragged by hundred pound weights once he saw that Mike was there._

_“Thanks,” he mumbled as Mike covered him with a pink and white afghan. “Don’t go,” he whined with his eyes closed, and Mike sighed with regret._

_“I have to Ches,” he whispered before he ducked and pressed his lips to Chester’s temple. “I’ve got to go home, Anna’s expecting me. Just stay asleep, and pretend I’m still here…”_

“… probably hasn’t even had time to do any writing,” Brad was saying as Mike drifted back into the conversation.

“Who, Ches?” Mike asked, feeling his cheeks burn as he admitted he hadn’t been listening.

“Either of you, I guess. But yeah. I was talking about Chester. How are the lyrics coming?” For once, Brad had been concentrating enough on something else to not give Mike a hard time for not listening. He hated it when Mike didn’t listen. 

“Believe it or not, we wrote a ton the last time we were out on the road. In fact, we’re going to go track some of that stuff tomorrow so that next week, when the band meets before we leave, you guys can hear where we’re at. I think by the time we get to the long break there will be enough material there to start fleshing out the music.”

Brad sat up, a huge smile stretched across his face. “Really? That’s great, Mike! How did you guys manage that? We might meet Chester’s every two year deadline after all.” He started to return crayons to the plastic container they had come from. “Here, girls, put the crayons in here,” he said, modeling the behavior he wanted from the two year olds.

Mike sat up too, relieved he’d put a smile on Brad’s face, pulling Josie over into his arms. “You know how it is. Sometimes things just flow. We should be able to get a lot done once we’re home in March. So start doing whatever it is you do in your head to get ready, because we’ve got some great material.” 

“I can’t wait,” Brad said, standing up to stretch, his cut-off cotton shorts riding low on his hips, almost falling off despite the belt he was wearing. “I’ve got some heavy stuff I want to get out. I hope you’ve got some angry lyrics.”

With a shrug and a grin, Mike said, “I guess you’ll find out.” Before Brad could question him further, Elisa’s voice floated up the stairs, calling them down to lunch. The boys took off despite Mike’s warning not to run in the house. “I’ll stay up here with Evan and Josie if you want to take the girls down,” he offered. “I’ll grab a bite during nap time if you want to go ahead and eat.”

“Sounds good,” Brad said, reaching for the girl’s hands. “Okay, you two, safely down the stairs we go,” he instructed, and Mike watched as they disappeared down the hallway. He was always grateful when things between him and Brad were easy.

**********

“I think I’ll head up and try to get some work done, you know we’re going into the big studio tomorrow,” Mike said, kissing Otis on the head as he went to put both of their plates in the dishwasher. The Delson’s had already left due to Noa’s exhausted tantrum in the middle of lunch. He had laid Josie down for her nap before he came to eat his sandwich, watching silently while his kids slowly picked at the rest of their food before declaring they were full. 

Anna looked up from wiping Abi’s hand and mouth with a damp paper towel. “Oh? I didn’t hear you guys say anything about that while Brad and Elisa were here.” She lifted Abi from the high chair and set her down on the floor. “Otis, you’re excused from the table, baby. Take Abi and you can play for a few minutes before nap time.” 

Mike looked up to see Otis grab Abi’s hand and lead her into the den before he glanced over at his wife. “Brad’s not going to be there. It’s just me and Chester tomorrow.”

“You said ‘we’… I assumed that meant the band.” Their eyes locked for a moment as Anna waited for Mike to say something. When he just frowned and raked a hand through his hair, turning it into a fluffy mess that she couldn’t help but find endearing, Anna shifted her eyes to the window. The sky was clear and the sun was beaming down over their well-manicured lawn. It was warm enough that she wanted to go outside with the kids when Josie woke up from her nap. 

“We’ve got enough lyrics down to start tracking,” Mike said hesitantly. “There’s no reason for everyone to be in the studio. But we’ll be trying to get as many of the ideas tracked before we leave on the next leg of the tour as possible. And enough of it down for the guys to hear where we are at our meeting next week… I mean, the lyrics for the next album are almost done.”

“Really?” Anna’s attention snapped back to him curiously. “That was fast.” 

Mike nodded, an easy smile drifting over his face. “We worked on it a lot while we were on this last tour. It’s always the best time for us, when we’re performing-”

“I thought you were having board game tournaments,” Anna interrupted. “I was glad to hear earlier that you were spending time with someone other than Chester. Now you’re telling me this album is almost ready to go. Sounds to me like you’ve been spending most of your time holed up working on lyrics.”

Mike leaned back against the counter, bracing his hands on the edge. _Here we go again._ “I don’t know what you want me to say, Anna. We’re always working. Hell, Brad and I can somehow end up writing lyrics while we’re playing Scrabble. And yes, Chester and I spend a lot of time together, you _know_ that. He’s my best friend.” His heart was racing as he tried to speak calmly. “And we always do our best work together,” he finished, looking at her earnestly.

Anna glanced toward the den, knowing the children were within earshot. She knew she sounded accusatory but something felt wrong, like it shouldn’t have been so easy for this next album to come together. What had changed? Time Mike and Chester spent together, that’s what had changed, at least that’s how it seemed from her viewpoint. Of course they’d have tons of writing done if they were together all the time. She knew she should be happy that they weren’t going to struggle with this one, but all that meant is they’d be back on the road sooner rather than later. More time alone together. 

When she didn’t speak, Mike kept going. “I feel like I’ve been spending more and more of my time lately trying to justify to you what I’m doing when I’m gone. Even when I’m home. Writing music is my job, you know. And singing is Chester’s… it’s infinitely easier to get things right when he’s there, trying it out as I make it up.” Mike blew out a long breath. 

Anna frowned. “I get that, Mike. It’s just-” 

“Is this about me not being home?” He asked, his voice a little bit rougher. “We talked about this before we ever had kids, Anna. We had no idea how long this thing was gonna last. Of course I was hoping we had a long career ahead of us, but at any point, any time the band isn’t working and trying to create and stay ahead of things, we could lose all of it. It’s not like we have an army of songwriters sitting around firing off number one pop tracks for Chester to sing to keep us relevant. It’s all us, and we’re all in, and this has been part of who we are and what our marriage has been since the very beginning, since before Chester!”

Mike was starting to feel more frustrated than usual, and trying to keep his voice low and level wasn’t working today. _I don’t understand how this got so complicated. She used to send me off to the studio with a smile and kiss. Now it’s like she’s suspicious of me._ Mike cocked his head to the side as he realized that was exactly the problem. Suspicion. Which meant he wasn’t doing as good of a job hiding the confusing feelings he had for Chester as he thought. 

Anna scrutinized Mike’s face for a moment before she inhaled a deep breath. “I knew what I was getting into, Mike, don’t turn this into something it’s not. You always make everything about work, and you never acknowledge what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Which is what? What is it about, then?”

Taking a chance, she fired off, “you. And Chester.”

Mike scoffed, but he felt his palms grow sweaty. He was right. She was suspicious. “You always want to bring Chester into this.” It was tiring to have this same argument with Anna every few months, but now it was terrifying, too. It would be so easy to accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Because it _is_ about Chester, whether you want to see it or not,” Anna insisted. “Chester is first, and the kids and I come second. And I’m really tired of it.”

“Sounds like what you’re saying is you’re tired of the band.” Mike held on stubbornly to the idea that when she said ‘Chester’ she really meant ‘Linkin Park.’ He hoped like hell that’s what she meant.

“No- I’m talking about the time you spend with Chester, Mike. I _get_ the band aspect. I _love_ that aspect of it, you know that.”

Mike shook his head. “Chester and the band are synonymous. What you’re saying is you’re tired of my commitment to my work. You’re tired of the hours in the studio and the hours on tour. You’re tired. We’ve been here before, I know the code.”

Anna felt her frustration rising to the surface as well, her arms crossed over her chest and her hands clenched. “This is different from when you were working yourself to death over Fort Minor-”

“How? Tell me how it’s different.” Anna didn’t speak, and Mike didn’t need her to. _Chester. Chester is the only thing that’s different._ “We keep coming back to the same thing, Anna. You say it’s about time with Chester and I’m telling you, that’s time with the band. Whether it’s all the guys, or just me and Dave, or me and Rob, or me and Chester-”

This time Anna cut him off. “You don’t spend a _tenth_ of the time alone with the other guys as you do Chester, Mike. Why are you holding on to this so tightly? Just admit you spend too much time with him and change something. For me. For us. For the kids. Why do I have to flat out beg you to make us a priority? We’ve been having this same argument for years now. I’m tired.”

Mike froze, looking at his wife, standing across the kitchen with her arms around herself. “That sounds an awful lot like an ultimatum, Anna. Listen to what you’re saying.” He stepped forward and came right up to her, pulling her stiff body into his arms. “I don’t want to argue with you. I need you to understand that this is a huge part of my life, but I love you and I love our children. It’s not one or the other. I can love both. I _do_ love both.” He held her for a minute before he felt her body give in to him, her arms slipping around his waist as she pressed her face to his chest. 

“I hate fighting for your attention, Mike. I feel like I’m always in competition for your love.” 

Her voice was muffled, her breath warm through his shirt. She smelled like peanut butter and jelly, baby formula, and her citrus shampoo. Mama and wife. “You’re not in competition for my love. Maybe my attention, sometimes,” he admitted shamefully as he stroked his hands over her back, “but never for my love.” The anger he’d been holding on to during their argument faded instantly as he conceded that he could spend more time with her and the kids - even if he couldn’t quite make the leap to agreeing it was the same thing as admitting he spent too much time with Chester.

Anna hugged him tightly before she said, “that’s the first time you’ve ever admitted it.” Pulling away, she peered into his tired eyes. “You’ve never actually said out loud that you could be more attentive.” She stroked her hands up the front of his t-shirt and then down his arms, grasping his biceps.

“I’m trying to see where you’re coming from,” he said, lifting a hand to her hair and running his long fingers through it. “I want you to know that I hear you. Honey, I’m always trying to be better for you. Sometimes I get it right and sometimes I miss the mark, but it’s not because I don’t love you.” Mike brought his hand around to cup her chin, stroking his thumb softly over her lips. “I do love you. Let’s not argue, please,” he begged before he lifted her lips to his and kissed her softly.

He still hadn’t admitted that Chester was part of the problem, and as usual, Mike’s tender kisses and apologies made Anna second guess all of the things she saw between her husband and his best friend. The obvious difference in the way he treated Chester and the way he treated Brad. As she pulled away from his arms and went to collect the children for their nap, allowing him to disappear into the studio for a few hours after all, she felt tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. Despite their tender moment in the kitchen, Mike had gone quickly from apologies to losing himself in the studio, and they had been married long enough for Anna to know that she wouldn’t see him again until dinner.

Otis had started to resist his afternoon nap most days, but the child was such a little rule follower that Anna managed to get him to take “rest time” while his sisters napped in order for her to have a few quiet moments alone each afternoon. She knew it was only a matter of time until he gave them up completely - probably about the time Mike headed out on tour again - and she’d be on duty all day without a break. Closing the door behind her, she stepped away from Otis’ room and looked down the hallway.

The studio door was closed, a clear signal that Mike did not want to be interrupted. Anna went back downstairs and made a cup of tea before she took her laptop into her office and shut her own door. It had become a secret pastime while Mike was away to browse the fan videos that popped up after each performance and LPU summit. This was the first time in over a week she’d had a moment to see what new stuff was out there. To silently watch and try to convince herself that the familiarity she saw between Mike and Chester was the same as the familiarity between all the band members. 

After skimming the fan videos she caught up on LPTV, finding herself laughing at how ridiculous they all were before she shut her laptop and sat drinking her tea and thinking. She’d never seen anything in any video that was different from real life. In fact, most of it appeared much more professional and restrained than how the two of them acted at home. The only exceptions were expressions she caught on Mike’s face during stage performances at times, times when he stared at Chester with a mixture of admiration and awe. Anna didn’t want to admit that she saw that expression on his face even when they were doing something mundane, like traveling to a venue. She’d seen that expression several time… her husband blatantly checking out the vocalist when he showed up to travel in what Mike had nicknamed his “magic pants.” Watched his eyes scan Chester’s face or his backside while he sang. 

She knew there was something to what she was feeling, but she had tried so many times to share her concerns with Mike, only for it to fall on deaf ears. At least today he’d managed to admit that he struggled with prioritizing. It was a step in the right direction. She could only pray she could continue to get him to make baby steps in her direction. It was unthinkable that he would ever leave her, but that small comfort wasn’t enough. Anna wanted to be number one. She’d been fighting for it ever since Chester came into their lives.

Upstairs, Mike had closed the studio door and gone to lay on the sofa, just for a minute, his mind swirling with Anna’s accusations. In his mind, he hadn’t changed the terms of their relationship. The band had always been there, since before Anna. Chester was part of the band. It made sense that they spent time together. It made sense that they were close.

_But the problem is, she thinks I’m closer to Chester than the others. And the worst part is, she’s not wrong. He takes up so much of my thoughts. It really isn’t fair to her, and I’ve known that for a while now. But I don’t know how to get him out of my head. I always, always get what I want, and the fact I can’t have him makes it ten times worse. How do I get these thoughts to leave me alone? How does anyone get Chester Bennington out of their head?_

Without intending to, sleep dragged Mike under as he thought things over, dragging his subconscious through thoughts and memories, trying to make sense of what his life was becoming. A whole different life.


	27. Part Three: Living Things -- Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some creative liberties with this snippet of LP history, as you will see if you check out this clip: https://youtu.be/jfIyLT7LX6k
> 
> This chapter probably explains more about how the first five chapters of Confession came to be than anything else so far. At least I hope it all comes together here, and isn’t confusing.

[February 21, 2013]

Mike knew he was dreaming, but he had no desire to wake up with Chester’s hand buried in his hair. It was raining, so they certainly weren’t at home, and of course, he wouldn’t be kissing Chester if they were at home anyway. There were absolutely no worries in Mike’s mind… it didn’t matter where they were. Locations in dreams were irrelevant, and he indulged himself. His fingers were spread along Chester’s lower back, probing, stroking over his muscles and the tattoos Mike knew were there. Tattoos he’d seen and had memorized for years and years.

Some far away part of his brain registered the moan that came from his own throat as Chester thread one leg between his knees, and he reciprocated by pulling the vocalist flush against him, surprised when Chester allowed him to bring their hips into alignment. Mike couldn’t remember ever feeling the other man’s hardened cock pressed against him, and he felt the tingles of excitement and nerves run down his legs as they kissed. 

He dared to slip his hand down and cup Chester’s ass cheek in his hand as their lips devoured each other, cautiously rocking his hips forward as he kept his hand tight against the other man’s ass. Mike ran his tongue over Chester’s lip ring-

_lip ring? I know for sure I’m dreaming now_

-and sucked it between his lips, flipping it back and forth before allowing Chester the control again, allowing his seeking tongue to find home inside his willing mouth. Back and forth, they took turns exploring as they kissed, a few more tentative presses of their lower bodies together as their hands stayed carefully away from each other’s hard cocks.

_I wonder what it would be like to touch him there._

Mike pulled away from the warmth of Chester’s lips and rested their foreheads together, his quick hot breaths betraying just how badly he wanted to continue what they were doing.

“Ches… God, _Ches_ ,” he whimpered aloud, his voice thick with desire, bringing Chester’s eyes open sharply as he tried to figure out if Mike had woken up in this quietly intimate early morning hour.

He knew he should stop this, but if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t want to. He didn’t feel guilty, even if he thought that he should. This had only happened a handful of times in the past year and a half- three- if anyone other than himself were counting, he reasoned. It wasn’t like Mike was falling into his arms every night. It was just dreams, just innocent dreams that Chester happened to be on the receiving end of… and until tonight, this third time while they were in Auckland, he hadn’t even been sure that Mike was dreaming about him those two other times they had kissed. But now, he knew.

Chester could pinpoint and describe in detail every time Mike had kissed him while sleeping, and each time it had shocked him so much that he couldn’t believe in the moment it was happening. Tonight was the first time he’d heard his name fall from Mike’s sleeping lips, and he didn’t know if what he was feeling was thrilling or terrifying. 

“It’s okay, Mikey,” he whispered tenderly, letting his fingers softly flutter down the side of Mike’s face, keeping the rest of his body as still as possible. How would he ever explain that they’d almost been dry humping in their sleep? He wouldn’t - couldn’t! Mike would be horrified. He’d waited too long after the first time they’d kissed, and the second time had been almost a year later. And now? Did it mean something that this time was so much closer, just a month later? Did he have to speak up now, was he obligated to tell Mike what was going on? How would he even start a conversation like that?

While he agonized over the morality of it all, Chester felt and heard Mike’s breaths slow, felt the grip on his ass slacken, felt both of their erections fade as he lay still and gazed on his sleeping face. A pang of disappointment hit his heart as the heat between them dissipated. It was the longest, the heaviest make out session of the three, and Chester was sorry it had come to an end. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could taste Mike’s mouth again, feel his hair and his skin and his whole body. He hated to admit how much he enjoyed it.

Sliding his hand down to Mike’s neck, he waited, feeling the reassuring, steady beat of his heart as it slowed and became peaceful before he dropped it over the emcee’s heart. Chester closed his eyes. He knew he couldn’t tell Mike, because it would end their sleeping arrangement… and he was too selfish, too in love and desperate for the connection afforded him in those dream-induced moments, to give up what he had. He couldn’t make himself feel guilty for keeping it from Mike, but he couldn’t screw up the courage to tell him either. He knew ultimately that couldn’t allow them to do this, not when he wasn’t sure of what Mike truly wanted, not when there was so much at stake for the two of them… their families… the band. He matched his breathing to Mike’s.

Too much. It was too much to think about, he decided. He’d think about it later. He’d worry about keeping secrets from Mike later.

**********

“How’s your voice feeling, Chester?” Dave asked from his place behind Mike in the van. He’d been listening to the two frontmen good-naturedly bicker over what they might want to sing at the LPU summit for the last ten minutes, even though they knew a decision wouldn’t be final until all six guys had a chance to discuss and agree. 

“I’m great,” Chester said immediately. “No worries about that. I just always think if we’re doing the song in the set, we should do something different in the summit. But Shinoda here,” he pointed a finger at Mike, “thinks it’s a good show warm up. What do you think? You’re the tie-breaker.” It was always fun to drag one or all of the guys into their mock arguments. 

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Dave said immediately, putting both hands up in surrender even though neither Mike nor Chester were looking at him. “I’m not getting into the middle of your argument without backup from the guys. This is gonna have to wait until we’re all together.”

“Wise move,” Mike said, turning to look at Chester and stick his tongue out at the vocalist with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Dave watched as they continued their brand of argument, back and forth silly insults that never cut too deep, that never touched on any truths, and he smiled to himself. They were always at their best when they were poking fun at each other. It was going to be a good night.

They arrived at the venue with a lack of fanfare, and by the time the issue of which songs to sing for the fan meet and greet was settled in the dressing room, it was time to go. Half of the band took the fans on a backstage tour, led by Mike, and the other half of the band took the fans up onto the set to take pictures and touch the instruments. Dave enjoyed showing off his bass collection and everyone seemed to have a great time before they shooed the fans into the audience and ripped through Castle of Glass and New Divide. 

Afterwards, Chester was full of energy, bouncing up and down, as Mike passed him and reached out to touch his arm. “You look like a rabbit on crack,” he teased, leaning over for his water bottle. Before Chester could say anything, Mike had the cap off and took a giant swig.

Chester’s grin stretched even wider. “That’s my water, Mikey,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve ingested my germs now.”

Mike just shrugged. “You’re not sick, are you? Don’t want to come down with ‘The Chester.’” He picked up the other water bottle and tossed it to Chester. “Sorry, you can have mine.” 

Brad made a face at the entire exchange. “This is why I put my water bottle up under my riser. No germs.”

“Chester and I have probably shared more spit in the past fifteen years than I care to know,” Mike answered with a careless flip in his voice. “We’re always getting ours confused.”

“You two are the only ones that do that,” Joe said, shaking a finger at them. “All of the rest of us put ours down in the same place every time.”

“Whatever,” Chester said, feeling his face flush from Mike’s words. If he only knew the spit they’d been sharing in bed earlier. Not that he planned to let Mike in on that little secret.

“I think we’ll do a little Q and A with the fans now,” Jim said, striding on stage behind the band with purpose and ending the water bottle conversation. “Just fifteen minutes or so, guys,” he instructed, corralling them to the front of the stage.

Brad leaned over and snagged the microphone, bringing it to his mouth without cracking a smile. “I hope you guys are all prepared, because we have the questions. So if you know the answers, you can stay for the show,” he deadpanned. 

Dave grinned the guitarist’s way as Brad handed him the mic. “Okay, first question,” he said, looking out over the fans with a serious expression. “What is the radius of the Earth.” He waited a second, then said, “no one? Okay, I guess we’ll see you after the show.”

Their crowd giggled as Mike and Rob rolled their eyes and Chester made his way to the front of the stage to sit on a riser. The question and answer part of summits was always a roll of the dice, even when the band tried to loosen them up with their offbeat humor. Some groups were so anxious in the presence of the band that the questions were stiff, things they’d been asked hundreds of times before. This particular group of fans was having a great time, though, and all the guys were relaxed and poking fun at each other and the crowd as Chester fielded a majority of the questions. 

Instinctually, Mike sat next to Chester, an easy smile on his face as the vocalist navigated different topics. He tried not to let his eyes linger on Chester too long as he listened to him speak, turning on occasion to make comments to Brad or Dave as they came to mind. He’d just spoken to Brad again when a fan directed a question to Mike. The emcee tuned in to hear him ask how Linkin Park had resolved their differences and gotten back together after Mike had left the band for Fort Minor. 

Before Mike could even reach for the microphone to answer, to insist that Linkin Park had never broken up, Chester teased the fans for a minute. “You know, we actually haven’t sat this close since he left us. I mean, as long as we have separate dressing rooms, and Mike doesn’t look at me too much, we’re good.”

Mike shielded his eyes from Chester’s as they laughed, and then the vocalist squashed the theory that they had been through a rough patch. Mike’s heart warmed as he listened to Chester emphatically insist that the band had never broken up, that the six of them were still best friends even after so much time had passed in the band. Fame and money changed people, but it hadn’t changed the friendships in Linkin Park. 

As Chester continued his answer, Mike’s smile became wider, listening to him talk about the talents of his fellow bandmates and friends, how they supported each other’s outside projects and interests, and he latched on to the praising words Chester spoke about him. His heart was ready to burst with happiness as Chester described their relationship, and Mike giggled as the vocalist said, 

“…we just keep getting closer as time goes by…”

With a grin, Mike took the opportunity to scoot closer to Chester, their thighs touching and arms brushing against each other. He felt the zap of energy between them and he restrained himself from reaching to drop his hand on Chester’s thigh, bits of his dream from the previous night slamming into his thoughts.

“… as you can see. By the time I get done with this answer, Mike will be inside of me,” Chester said, immediately wishing he could stuff the words back in his mouth, hoping nobody picked up the double entendre in what he’d said as he tried to keep a straight face. Tried to not betray that he’d heard a different meaning than what he’d intended in his words. 

It was clear that the double meaning escaped Mike for a moment, before the fans started to cheer and catcall at them on stage and his expression morphed into one of embarrassment. He felt his heart beating in his ears as Chester continued, his voice flustered. “Wait, wait,” he started, scratching his chin and clearing his throat as Mike scooted away the same distance he’d just moved closer. 

Chester’s mind was working frantically as he tried to cover himself. “I meant, on top of me.” He cursed himself silently. That wording wasn’t any better, and he made a face as Mike crossed his ankle over his knee and took a deep breath.

Mike’s thoughts were spinning as well, while he crossed his legs to hide the immediate hard on Chester’s words had brought on. Memories of the dream he’d had, sliding his hands over Chester’s skin, feeling their bodies pressed together, kissing him… _You can’t let it look like that affected you, keep smiling! Make it a joke, look at him like you aren’t embarrassed or every one will see truth in what he just said! Smile, laugh, make a joke to Brad!_ Internally panicking, but with a cheesy grin on his face, Mike turned to Brad, forgetting completely to look Chester’s way, leaving him stumbling over his words alone.

Brad’s mouth was hanging open in shock as the fans cheered their approval of the entire slip, and the joke that came out of Mike’s mouth was, “yeah, that’s not any better. He wishes.”

_Why in the FUCK did I say that?_

Mike felt his cheeks burn as Brad shook his head, disbelieving what was happening. It was all he needed, for Brad to have something else to nag on him about. He’d never been so grateful for the next question to be asked, for the crew’s efficiency in keeping things moving. Chester stood up and passed the microphone off to Joe, then stood behind the riser. 

Mike felt the sting of Chester’s absence after they had been sitting so close together, but he was determined not to let it derail the rest of the session with the fans. They all continued to pass around the mic, answering questions, even as Brad’s eyes burned into the side of his face. Jim was true to his word, and after fifteen minutes, thanked the fans and excused the band to their dressing room to relax a little ahead of the performance. 

Chester’s comment was the only thing on Mike’s mind as they escaped backstage. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to hear the guy’s jokes or suffer under Brad’s stare, didn’t want to tell Chester it was okay when nothing about it was okay. It was too close to Mike’s secret truth. It was too close to what he’d woken up knowing without a doubt that very morning.

As usual, he’d woken before Chester in the frigidness of their secretly shared hotel room, but something about the morning had felt different. Something was lurking in the fringes of his thoughts, just out of reach. Chester was facing him, curled on his side, one arm under the pillow and the other slung over Mike’s waist. There was just enough space between them that Mike couldn’t feel his body heat, but his eyes could focus on Chester’s shadowed face. A face that he loved beyond reason, would do anything for, would go to any lengths to protect.

_Love. I’m in love with him._

The realization had drifted over him slowly, trickling through his sleepy senses and spreading warmth through his body as he kept staring at Chester’s sleeping face. The tiny space between his lips, the curve of his eyelashes on his cheekbones, the plugs in his ears. The features that Mike had sketched over and over again, could pull from his memory with ease. The urge to lean over and kiss his best friend awake was strong, magnetic even, and Mike fought down the impulse to do it, even lightly. _He wouldn’t understand. I can’t believe this. I’m in love with Chester. And I can’t do a damn thing about it._

Mike squeezed his eyes shut and let his mind fill in the gaps, the thought of what Chester’s lips might feel like, and his thoughts cycled through places he’d visited before. Every time he’d fantasized about the vocalist, he’d managed to push it off as loneliness, as missing Anna, as just being emotionally intimate but not _truly_ in love… but now it seemed obvious. It was everything Anna had been trying to get him to understand. It was what Brad had identified in the way Mike existed around Chester. His wife and his first love had seen it first, had tried to get him to see it too, probably in hopes he could change the trajectory, change the outcome, before it was too late. 

How had it even happened, and how had he been so blind? He ached to reach for Chester, to just confess his feelings and let the outcome be whatever it was going to be, but as he lay there, thinking, Mike knew he just couldn’t do it. They were friends. Chester would never be open to a relationship with him, with a man. And not only that, they were married. They had children. 

Mike thought about Anna and everything they had built in the last fifteen years, but his thoughts kept comparing his life with Anna to his life with Chester. He and Chester had built so much together as well. He had the very best of both worlds, it was ridiculous to think that these emotions should be allowed to ruin it all. It didn’t matter what his heart was screaming at him, he was going to slide out of that bed and clear his head. He had to. It was the right thing to do. He carefully moved Chester’s arm from his waist and stood up, taking a few deep breaths. Cleansing breaths. Calming, I’m-not-in-love-with-my-best-friend breaths.

But now… as flashes of last night’s dreams crossed his mind, Mike watched Chester move around their dressing room and wondered if there was any reciprocation of his feelings at all. What Chester had said on stage… had it been a Freudian slip? Or just a poor choice of words? 

Their eyes met a few times as the guys threw a few more jabs, and Mike felt that electricity that always seemed to be between them in the air. He wanted to get Chester alone, corner him against a wall, put his lips to the vocalist’s ear, and ask him if he really wanted Mike inside of him. Or on top of him. Or whatever way they could come up with. He wanted to say fuck it and stop pretending there weren’t feelings there, at least on his side. He wanted to see if Chester felt it too, but hanging over all of that was the fear that he was reading it all wrong, that Chester would be mortified- disgusted by him- and it would ruin everything. Mike couldn’t bear the thought, and as he went through the motions, changing clothes and participating the excited banter of his bandmates, he knew there was nothing he could say or do other than continue to deny it, try to push it away, bury it. The fear of rejection, the fear of ruining their friendship, was too terrifying. He couldn’t imagine a world without Chester, he couldn’t risk it.

All his silence delivered him that evening after the performance was the feeling of Chester’s sweaty body against his, kissing his cheek and whispering with shining eyes, “great show, Mikey.” 

He felt his heart breaking as he stared at Chester’s lips, secretly wishing for so much more as he smiled and agreed, “you, too, Ches,” before forcing himself to pull away and wave to the crowd one last time. 

**********

Anna paced up and down the length of the nursery, trying every trick she knew to get Josie to fall asleep. Otis and Abi had been out for hours, but the baby was not giving up tonight, and all Anna wanted in the world was for Mike to walk through the door and take the crying baby from her arms.

It wasn’t even bitterness that swept over her as she thought of Mike, a half a world away in Australia; it was pure and utter exhaustion. Nothing was working. Rocking in the recliner. Swaying back and forth as she walked. Bouncing over her shoulder. Feeding, changing, singing, even walking away. Anna just wasn’t a ‘cry-it-out’ type of mother, and Josie was inconsolable. So she was back to rocking again, desperate for something to work.

For the hundredth time, she wished for a recording of Mike singing his bedtime songs for the kids. It was incomprehensible that she had never thought to ask him to do that, when he had a studio full of expensive equipment in which to make it happen. Mike’s singing voice was low and smooth, comforting to their kids when he sang lullabies over the phone or Facetime for them. Why, why didn’t she have a recording?

After what seemed like forever, the baby’s cries grew weaker, her unhappy face relaxed, and she fell into a fitful sleep. Anna was almost holding her breath, afraid that any slight noise might rouse Josie from her sleep. It was there that Anna fell asleep for a time, her feet propped up on the ottoman and her head resting on the back of the chair, Josie laying on her chest. Anna didn’t know when they had finally fallen asleep, or how long they stayed that way before she awoke some time later, the dim light of the nighttime lamp glowing softly in the corner. 

It had taken so long to get the baby to sleep that Anna was afraid to lay her down. With Josie finally still in her arms, she dared to reach for her phone, scrolling through some social media before she decided to see if there were any new videos from last night’s show in New Zealand. It didn’t take long to find one of the fan meeting, and Anna clicked on the clip, the volume turned down low. Her heart pinched a bit as she studied Mike’s blurry form, and she watched him sing for a moment before she slid the button at the bottom and fast forwarded a bit. Another song. Brad rattling off some accolades and butchering Chester’s name in the process as the vocalist held a plaque out for him to read. Mike tripping over Dave as he backed away. Joe and Rob predictably quiet. 

She slid the button over some more. Rob and Dave sitting on the edge of the stage. Joe and Brad walking around. Mike and Chester sitting side by side on a riser. Anna took her hand off the button and let the video play on its own.

_“…we just keep getting closer as time goes by…” Chester said, as Mike took the opportunity to scoot closer to him. “As you can see. By the time I get done with this answer, Mike will be inside of me.” Chester fumbled for his next words as Mike scooted away again. “Wait, wait, I meant on top of me,” he corrected, and Mike looked at someone off screen as he crossed his legs. “He wishes.”_

Anna paused the video and set her phone to the side, gingerly standing up with the baby, hoping she would stay asleep. With silent footsteps she took Josie to her crib, and managed to lay her down without waking her up. It was a huge victory, and a tired smile crashed over Anna’s face before she turned and caught sight of her phone. She had to give that video another glance, see what Mike had really said in the moments after Chester’s comment. There was no way he’d said ‘he wishes.’

Clicking the night lamp off, she grabbed her phone and headed for the bedroom, her exhausted mind trying to explain away Mike’s reaction, and Chester’s reaction, to saying such a thing. There was no way to mistake how the crowd of fans had taken it, though, and it frustrated Anna to think that maybe she wasn’t the only one with suspicions about Mike and Chester. She had to know what he said to the person off camera. She thought it might be Brad.

She sat on the edge of the bed and brought the video back up again.

_”By the time I get done with this answer, Mike will be inside of me... wait, wait, I meant on top of me.”_

Anna watched Mike’s lips form what looked to her like the words ‘he wishes!’ as he crossed his ankle over his knee and smiled at Brad. She rewound the clip again.

 _"…I meant on top of me…”_ She squinted and focused on Mike’s lips. _‘He wishes.’_ It was as plain as day to her. She let the video continue for another second. 

The camera panned away and someone asked Joe a question, and Anna caught sight of Chester’s side as he swiftly passed the mic off to Joe and went to stand behind the riser, away from Mike. They both looked uncomfortable now.

She moved the red button to the left again. 

Mike’s teasing banter. _He wishes._

The phone fell from Anna’s hand onto the duvet, and she stared at it for a moment, wishing she’d just fallen asleep in the baby’s room. Never clicked on the LPU summit video. Never heard Chester’s words, seen Mike’s reaction, watched Chester’s uncomfortable expressions.

With a fist full of blanket, Anna slowly lay over on her side, her sides squeezing inward as she struggled to breathe against the weight in her chest. There was something there. Too many signs. Too many reasons to suspect that Mike was drifting away from her. The question now was, what could she even begin to do about it? Every time the subject came up Mike denied it, and why would he ever admit to doing anything wrong when there was no proof anyway? He would tell her again, just as interview after interview had taught her, the secret to their success was the close relationship of the Linkin Park frontmen. The comfort they found in trusting each other enough to share their dark thoughts, to write their meaningful lyrics. Mike would say that’s all it was. Work.

But wasn’t emotional intimacy just as bad as physical intimacy? Right now, to Anna, it felt even worse. There was no reason to believe Mike and Chester were physically intimate, but there was no way to deny that they were emotionally intimate. That was the scariest thing to realize. How could she get her husband to see how it was hurting their relationship? Even if it was only hurting their marriage in her eyes, even if Mike steadfastly refused to admit that anything was wrong? 

Was there even reason to worry, ultimately? Wouldn’t Mike’s strict upbringing and his sense of obligation to her and the children keep him from ever acting on it? There were too many questions flooding to the front of her mind, and every answer tied back to Chester. Her best friend’s husband. How much did Talinda know?

She wanted to scream, cry, call Talinda and ask her why she’d never said anything. Because surely, Talinda knew too. It was obvious, right there in front of her face. A random, fan-shot video was all it took to convince her thoroughly of what she’d been denying for so long.

Hot tears dripped over the bridge of her nose and down to the duvet below, but it wasn’t long before the exhaustion that comes with teething babies pulled Anna down into a fretful sleep. She didn’t even hear her phone vibrate six times before Mike’s incoming call went to voicemail.


	28. Part Three: Living Things -- Struggles

[March 5, 2013]

Chester sat with his hands curled around his coffee cup, alternating his stare between the magical brown liquid and the soft, relaxed curves of Mike’s sleeping face. He inhaled the five-star hotel’s rich dark roast and compared the color of the liquid to the color of Mike’s eyes on stage last night. Dark, dark brown, almost black. Hypnotizing and beautiful. 

The Australian tour ended last night, and they had celebrated together before exhaustion settled on them. Back in the room, and two showers later, Mike had curled on his side in the crisp, white hotel sheets and held his hand out to pull Chester into his arms. It was without hesitation that Chester joined him, sinking down into the cool mattress and fluffy pillow to talk quietly together until Mike stopped answering, and Chester knew he was asleep. 

Before he, too, fell asleep, Chester continued to lay with his fingers laced through Mike’s, their arms stretched in the space between them - space Chester had been taking care to leave now before they fell asleep, but always found had disappeared by morning. He listened to Mike’s slow and steady breathing, and he thought about Mike kissing him almost two weeks ago, the gentle kiss that had turned passionate so quickly. He thought about the way their bodies fit together, how they’d both been aroused, and he thought about the secrets he was keeping from his best friend. He felt the weight of those secrets, and he wanted very badly to free himself from that burden… he just didn’t know how. 

Every morning he lay tangled in Mike’s arms, thinking about how to say something, to open a dialogue between them about what was happening, but every morning the secret died on his lips when he opened his eyes to find Mike gazing at him with the purest form of affection in his eyes. There was no part of Chester that wanted to lose that sweet glow of admiration, that trust, that feeling of peace and safety they had between them. So every morning he stayed silent. Every morning he returned Mike’s soft good morning with one of his own, and every morning he went to his room to dress while cursing his cowardice.

He began to think that maybe if he woke up first for once, he’d find the nerve to confess. Which lead to him sitting in the corner chair in the cold hotel room this morning, the day they were leaving to go home for five months. This was the last possible day he could screw up the nerve to tell Mike they had crossed the line, to admit he’d known what they were doing and that it was wrong, and hope that Mike would forgive him. Once they left for home, it would be too late. He had to try. 

He was on his second cup of coffee and nowhere closer to finding the right words to say when he heard Mike shift in the bed, watched his arm smooth over the sheets in search of Chester. He looked down into his coffee cup again. Warm, beautiful brown. The color of Mike’s eyes. 

“Ches?” Mike lifted his head from the pillow an inch, his sleepy eyes connecting with Chester’s fuzzy form as he spotted him sitting in the chair. “Is that coffee?”

“Yeah,” he responded softly as he struggled to keep his voice calm, his heart already hammering in his chest. “Want me to get you some? I got you a cup but you were still sleeping so I drank it too. I’ve almost finished it,” Chester corrected with a sad smile.

Mike briefly chuckled low in his throat as his eyes slid closed again and he wrapped his arms around Chester’s abandoned pillow. “You’re so bad, Ches. Drinkin’ my coffee.”

“I’ll get more now,” Chester said, already on his feet and heading for the phone to call room service. “And another cup for me.”

“And bacon,” Mike mumbled with a dreamy smile on his face.

Chester stopped next to the bed with his hand on the phone, looking down at Mike. His black hair falling across his forehead. His dark lashes in thick slashes across his eyes. His perfectly shaped lips that were slightly parted as he sighed over blissful bacon fantasies. His bare arms that were cradling Chester’s pillow in place of Chester’s body. Mike was the picture of innocence lying there in their bed, and Chester still couldn’t think of what words he could say that wouldn’t shatter their relationship into pieces. 

“No bacon,” Chester admonished with a smile in his voice. “You know we’re due for breakfast soon. You’ll give Delson a heart attack if you aren’t present for roll call.”

With his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, Mike whined, “Brad always gets his way. I just wanted a little pr4e-breakfast bacon snack.” He cracked his eyes open again and looked up at Chester, who had the phone at his ear. Mike listened to the request for coffee - yes, more coffee, please - and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout as soon as Chester placed the phone back on the cradle without ordering any bacon. 

“You’ll get your bacon in a bit,” Chester assured him as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Scoot over.”

Mike shoved Chester’s pillow back where it belonged and patted the mattress. “There. Plenty of room.” He frowned as Chester swung his legs up onto the bed and scooted back toward the headboard, leaning against it instead of laying down beside him. “Everything okay?” _Why is he up so early? He never wakes up first. And why won’t he lay with me? Something is wrong, something he’s not telling me. I know it just from how he’s sitting._ Mike reached over and rubbed his hand over Chester’s knee. “Whatever is on your mind, it must really be something. You’re never the first one up.”

Chester looked away from Mike’s hand, his eyes flicking over to the chair in the corner he’d been sitting in for over an hour, waiting for Mike to wake up. Twelve days had passed since the last time Mike had kissed him, and with a sinking desperation, Chester knew the reason he couldn’t find the right words this morning was because he’d waited too long. Again. 

“Ches?” Mike said softly, and smiled when Chester finally looked down at him. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Come here.” He reached for and pulled Chester’s hand toward him, urging the vocalist to slide down the sheets next to him. 

Giving in immediately, Chester stretched out next to Mike on his back, both arms crossed under his head as he stared at the ceiling. “I just didn’t sleep very well last night,” he started, his heart pounding in his ears as he lied. “I don’t know… just anxious about going home, I guess. It’s always like that.”

It wasn’t enough of a reason for Chester to be up first, and Mike knew it. Something was on his friend’s mind, even if he wasn’t going to say anything. “It is always like that,” he agreed easily, hoping he could get Chester to talk about the real problem. “Back to reality, it’s always a shock.”

“Reality,” Chester mused. “I wouldn’t call it that. It’s like we have two realities. One is here together, the other is at home with our wives and kids.”

Mike sat up, the duvet falling around his hips. “It _is_ like that. It’s a hard adjustment. Harder than I’d like to admit sometimes.” He caught Chester’s sharp gaze as he continued. “I’m so used to you being here, beside me, and the thought of going home just sucks.” 

Chester watched the pink flush spread across Mike’s cheeks and took a deep breath. He should say something. Right now. He should tell him that they’d kissed, that he liked it, and that he hoped Mike wasn’t upset. But he couldn’t. Thoughts of Talinda, Anna, and their children all crowded into his mind at once. It didn’t matter if they both wanted each other - which he still wasn’t sure about - it would be a hormone driven mistake. How reckless would it be to assume that Mike’s dreams meant that he wanted to be with Chester anyway? He had no idea at all what he’d been saying or doing, which meant it was just his tired brain making up stuff. It didn’t _mean_ anything. “We go through this every time, now, Mikey. I miss you when I’m at home, too.”

“I know,” Mike sighed, pulling the comforter around his body. “I don’t want to talk about it, actually. That never does anything but upset one or both of us.”

“True,” Chester agreed as Mike lay back down beside him. He took in a deep breath. Mike still smelled like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Soapy and clean.

“C’mere, Ches,” Mike said, sliding an arm around Chester’s middle. “You deprived me of waking up next to you today.” He smiled softly. “Let’s start over. Close your eyes.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. Chester closed his eyes and smiled. “Now what?” He felt the warmth of Mike’s touch through his pajama shirt. Warmth he’d been trying to avoid without success since that night almost two weeks ago. Somehow, they always found each other in the middle of the night. 

“Now I get to open my eyes and be grateful you’re here with me,” Mike whispered, letting his gaze fall over Chester’s face. “I _am_ grateful for you, Ches. You make being out on the road as comfortable as being in my own bed. You make everything better.” He watched as Chester’s dark eyes fluttered open, something unreadable lurking in the depths. “Good morning.”

Swallowing away the sudden tightness in his throat, Chester whispered back, “good morning.” That light, that love in Mike’s eyes, effectively ended whatever resolve he’d mustered to tell Mike the truth. He’d just have to be more careful. Turn away when Mike was talking in his sleep, leave the bed, something. It was up to him to stop this thing that was happening. He couldn’t crush Mike’s love for him in the process. He needed it. Needed the way Mike looked at him, touched him, protected him and sang with him, and every other aspect of their relationship. He needed it all. 

“Isn’t this better than waking up alone?” Mike asked.

Chester immediately took those words and twisted them to suit the reality he was hoping to create. A reality where what they did on tour didn’t mean anything. Where it couldn’t mean anything. They were just there for each other in the absence of their wives. No need to say anything stupid now. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I hate waking up alone.”

Chester thought he saw the light in Mike’s eyes dim just a little, as though he were hoping for Chester to say something more, but before he could say anything else, there was a light knock at the door. Room service. He could use another cup of coffee now. He cursed at himself for not telling Mike the truth as he opened the door and received the third room service tray of the morning. When he turned around, Mike was already pulling on his t-shirt and sliding into a pair of jeans.

“That smells amazing,” Mike cooed. “Better get mine before you drink it again.” He walked over and swiped a mug from the tray, then poured the coffee from the small pot, winking at Chester as he did so. “Here you go.” Instead of taking the first cup, he handed it to Chester, filled the second, and then sat down on the end of the bed, his expression blissful as he took the first sip.

Watching him enjoy that first taste brought a smile back to Chester’s face. He could do this, he could stop the kissing, and the five month break would be helpful. He could make sure it didn’t happen again. He could do the right thing. There was no reason to tell Mike what had happened. It was all going be fine. It had to be.

**********

Anna sat with her hands curled around her coffee cup, alternating her stare between the light caramel color of her latte and the busy L.A. street outside the window. Talinda was late, and Anna knew she would breeze into the coffee shop with her hair in a ponytail and her face clean from makeup, workout clothes on and a gym bag in her hand. It was typical of their coffee dates since the girls had been born. For a brief moment she patted her hand over the shoulder length brown hair she’d barely run a comb through earlier that morning, catching the reflection of her face in the window. It didn’t matter what her hair looked like, she stopped comparing herself to Talinda a long time ago. 

Mike and Chester would be home that evening, gaining back time they had already lived as they traveled backwards across time zones. Anna wasn’t sure what she was going to say to her best friend yet, but she knew had to say something. The images from the video she’d watched almost two weeks ago were burned into her memory, along with countless other subtleties she’d picked up throughout the years. She had to find out if Talinda suspected there was more than friendship between their husbands. It had reached the tipping point, and she couldn’t keep her suspicions to herself any longer. 

As she took another sip of her latte, Anna spotted Talinda hurrying down the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding running into a lady with a stroller when they crossed paths as she opened the door of the coffee shop. She brushed a hand over her forehead, pushing back the windblown strands that had come loose from her ponytail, smiling as she spotted Anna by the window. 

“Hey,” she greeted Anna, her sweet voice apologetic. “Sorry I’m late, the morning just spiraled out of control with the twins. Everything has been off, they’re still not on great sleep schedules. I can’t _wait_ for Chester to get home.” She dropped her gym bag on the floor beside them and turned to look at the menu on the wall behind the barista. “I’m going to go grab my coffee, do you need anything else?”

“I’m all set, thanks,” Anna said as Talinda turned away to place her order. She was lost in thought again when Talinda returned to the table, a vanilla latte in one hand and a cinnamon scone in the other.

“God, the last thing I want to do now is go work out,” Talinda said as she dropped into the seat across from Anna. “But I’m still working on those last five pounds from the twins and I swear I’m never going to lose them. I’m going to have to ask Chester if I can get a tuck or something.”

“You know how he feels about plastic surgery these days,” Anna said, raising an eyebrow. “I seriously doubt he’ll go for it.”

“I’m not asking for anything but a little stomach tightening,” Talinda started before she glanced down at her waist and pinched. “But you’re right. He’d hate it if I asked. Besides, I don’t want to be like _her_.” Talinda lowered her voice, making sure she wouldn’t be overheard. 

Anna nodded, her hand smoothing over her stomach as she silently agreed, nobody wanted to be like Sam. “I don’t think I’ll ever get back to my pre-Abi weight. Maybe my pre-Josie weight. Maybe.” She hated how despondent her voice sounded. She’d never considered herself to be vain, but she’d also never felt as insecure about her marriage as she did right now. 

“You look great, Anna,” Talinda complimented with a smile as she broke a pointed end off her cinnamon scone. “At least your stomach is nice and flat. I don’t know where you think you’re carrying an ounce of extra weight. You look the same as when I first met you.”

Their eyes connected as Anna thought about the first time she’d met Talinda. _They_ had met Talinda. 

_It was an after party of sorts for one of Mike’s Fort Minor shows, a local show that they had all decided to meet up afterwards. Mike had come off stage, happy and hyped, pulling Anna in close to his sweaty t-shirt and making her squeal with laughter._

_“I need to shower fast and we’ll go meet up with the guys,” he said, as Anna pulled out of their hug. “Chester says he’s got some big announcement tonight. I’m sure it’s about his other music, they’ve probably settled on a name or a release date or something.”_

_By the time they’d arrived at the club, most of the rest of the band and their wives and girlfriends were there. Everyone was a few drinks in and Mike and Anna both tossed back a shot to catch up._

_”Where did Chester get off to?” Mike called over to Brad, his hands on Anna’s hips and she swayed to the music in front of him._

_Elisa was hanging on to Brad’s belt loops, playfully chastising him for letting his pants sag down as she tried to pull them up. Brad swatted her hands away and shook his curls at her with a saucy grin before he glanced Mike’s way. “No idea! He disappeared right before you guys showed up!”_

_“Weird,” Mike said to Anna as he pulled her closer, dancing a little, as much as he was comfortable with in public. “He wanted everyone here tonight for something, then he just disappears.”_

_“I’m sure he’ll be right back,” Anna soothed, sliding her hands into the pockets of his jeans. She scanned the room, looking for a Chester, but he wasn’t anywhere close. Smiling, she turned back to Mike, who looked worried. “You’re so silly, Mike. You know how Chester is with surprises. You’re worrying for nothing.”_

_Just as Mike started to say something, he caught sight of Chester through the crowd, making his way toward their group. “Hey, you guys,” he called, and all heads turned toward him. “Is everyone here?”_

_There was a chorus of affirmations as Chester emerged from the sea of people around him, his hand linked to a woman they had never seen before._

_oe, his arm around Karen, raised his drink in a toast at this new woman. “Everyone’s here, Chester! Is this your big secret?” he yelled over the music as he craned his neck to get a better look at the dark haired beauty behind Chester._

_Anna caught the look of pure and utter surprise on Mike’s face as he watched Chester pull the mystery woman next to him and wrap his arm around her back. She was exotic, gorgeous, and the eyes of all the women of Linkin Park were on her._

_“Well, you guys, I wanted everyone together so you could meet Talinda… my fiancee,” he announced. The smile on Chester’s face was a mile wide as he proudly displayed Talinda on his arm._

_The group was stunned quiet for just a moment before Dave immediately stepped forward and grabbed Chester for a hug. “Congratulations, man! Where have you been hiding her?”_

_Brad sat his drink down on the table and looked at Mike, who was staring at Chester with a shocked look on his face. Anna glanced between them, frowning at Mike’s stunned expression before she stepped forward and placed her hand on Mike’s arm. “Mike? Did you know?”_

_Never taking his eyes off Chester, Mike shook his head, his voice coming out softly. “I had no idea.”_

_Anna watched the rest of their friends, Linsey, Joe and Karen, Rob and Vanessa, Brad and Elisa, all take turns congratulating Chester and welcoming Talinda into the family as Mike just stood there, watching. When Chester turned and caught Mike’s eyes, Anna squeezed his arm before she went to him and pulled Chester into a hug. “Congratulations, this is such a wonderful surprise!”_

Hugging Talinda had naturally come next, and an instant connection had been forged between the two. Anna had thought about that night many times over the years, the incredulous look on Mike’s face. In the coffee shop now, she shook her thoughts away. 

“No way,” Anna scoffed with a smile, “when we met I had a bad dye job and too much eyeliner. I hope I’m doing better than that now!” She reached to touch over her hair again.

“You know what I mean,” Talinda said, rolling her eyes as she gestured to Anna’s body. “You’re still as tiny as you were back then.”

Still shaking her head in disagreement, Anna asked, “do you remember meeting all of us?”

“It was terrifying!” Talinda exclaimed as she popped another bite of scone in her mouth. “The whole band at once? _And_ wives? Chester was so excited, he just didn’t know how to tell you all, when he’d just recently been divorced. It was so fast-”

“And you were already pregnant!” Anna interrupted with glee.

“Well, we didn’t tell you that night!” Talinda laughed as she shook her head again. “You all would have been scandalized!” 

Even as they laughed, Anna looked at Talinda curiously, a thought occurring to her. “Well, you know that Chester told Mike, right? That night? As we were leaving? That you were pregnant?”

Talinda shook her head. “No, he never told me. Figures, though. He tells Mike everything.” She didn’t even look affected as she took a sip of her latte.

But he hadn’t told Mike about Talinda before he got engaged, and Anna knew it. She could tell from the looks of betrayal he’d shot Chester throughout the night before they disappeared for a while. When they came back, things were fine. Everything had slipped back into normalcy. 

And Talinda’s declaration made a perfect opening for Anna to ask about Chester and Mike. She couldn’t have set it up any better if she’d been trying. Yet… she couldn’t bring herself to just ask Talinda outright if she thought their husbands were engaged in an intimate relationship behind their backs. Not even if she phrased it delicately and avoided words like ‘affair’ and ‘fucking’. Instead, she tilted her head to the side and said, “I think Mike confides in Chester a lot, too.”

The last bit of scone disappeared into Talinda’s mouth as she nodded her head and looked at Anna like she’d said the most obvious thing in history. “They’re lucky to have each other. I can’t tell you how much better I feel when Chester is away, knowing that Mike is with him. Mike is so… stable? Is that the right word?” Talinda shrugged. “I just know Chester is safe with him. It helps me sleep at night.”

Anna had started to tear a paper napkin into tiny bits as Talinda spoke. Without looking up, she said, “funny. It does the exact opposite for me.”

A heaviness settled over them both as Anna continued to tear up her napkin and Talinda stared at the top of her friend’s head as she sipped her coffee. Finally, she asked, “what do you mean, Anna? You can’t sleep because Mike is away, or you can’t sleep knowing they’re together?”

Together. Anna looked up sharply and took the plunge. “You say that so casually, like it doesn’t surprise you, them being together. Do you ever think… ever watch them and think, maybe they’re _together_ too much?”

There was another long pause as Talinda thought over Anna’s words. “Are you trying to say what I think you’re saying?” She tried to catch Anna’s eyes but she refused to look up. “Because you couldn’t be more wrong, Anna. Chester would never… _Mike_ would never cross any boundaries. Mike? Really? I’m surprised you could even think that way about him. Any of the guys, really. I mean… Chester is the only real wild card, but we’re happy together. There’s no reason to seek anything else.”

“Has Chester… do you know if he’s ever…” Anna couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.

“Cheated?” Talinda asked.

“Well… not with a fan, or anything… or a woman.” Anna pushed her hair back and took a sip of coffee, her eyes settling meaningfully on Talinda.

“Another man? Anna. Even if he had, Mike is the straightest guy I know. They’re not screwing around.” Talinda’s voice was firm with conviction, and Anna’s eyes skipped away guiltily. 

“I just… I see them, and I see the way Mike looks at Chester, and I think about how long it’s been since I felt him look at me that way-”

“You’re out of your mind. You don’t see how Mike looks at you? He admires you, Anna. He adores your children and he’s a good man. And how he looks at Chester… Chester is so open-minded, and so loving, and he’s not afraid to show it, whether it’s a male or a female. I think Mike reciprocates that affection, but that doesn’t mean they’re doing anything wrong. They’re closer than friends. They’re brothers. God, how long have you been thinking about this?” 

Anna finally looked back up as Talinda stopped for a breath. “I don’t know. It’s been a nagging thing for a while.” There was another silence as both women sipped their coffee thoughtfully. 

“Are things okay between you two?” Talinda asked worriedly. “I’ve never heard you talk like this. Ever.”

Anna pushed the shredded pieces of napkin together into a small pile before she answered. “They’re fine. You know how it is, once they’re back home. It’s weird for a day or two, then it all settles back into a routine. I feel like Mike is distracted, always thinking about work. But I guess that’s really no different than it’s always been. He’s a workaholic for sure.” She glanced up to see Talinda nodding. “And we’re… intimate, of course… I just… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. They spend a lot of time away from us. It’s natural, I think, to feel a little insecure.”

“”It’s not other women, Tal.” Anna’s cheeks burned as she came right out and admitted, “it’s Chester. It’s the way he looks at Chester, the way he acts around Chester… I’m… I’m jealous of their relationship.”

Talinda looked out the window, a small line appearing between her delicate eyebrows as she thought about what to say next. This wasn’t the conversation she expected to have this morning. “Well, the way I see it… you can be jealous of it, or you can do what I did a long time ago and just accept it. And even if they _are_ screwing around behind our backs, wouldn’t you rather it be with each other than some random fan they meet after a show? They love and respect each other, and that doesn’t mean that they don’t love and respect us just as much.” She turned back to Anna, meeting her wide eyes bravely. “I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but we’re in this together, you know. Let them have each other, if that’s what they want. Is it worth ruining everything just because of jealousy? It’s possible to deeply love more than one person, I think.”

“I never thought I’d be sitting here talking about this with you. It’s like… you don’t think I’m crazy. You see it too, don’t you?” Anna split the pile of shredded napkin into two equal piles. 

“I know what you’re talking about. And you don’t have to roll with it… but there’s no way for me to exist in Chester’s life and be jealous. Our family is just too complicated for that. Past that… I feel like Chester _needs_ Mike…” With a last swallow of her coffee, Talinda pushed the mug to the side and poked a finger at the mounds of shredded napkin. “Can I tell you something?”

Anna felt her heart rate speed up as she looked at her friend. “Of course.”

Talinda nodded and blew out a slow breath. “I asked Mike to keep a watch over Chester for me. Years ago. When we were first married, and Ty was just a baby, and I didn’t know what I was doing. Had no idea what I’d gotten myself into. The whole bitterness with Sam, Chester’s drinking, the depression… I moved in with him like, ten days after we met. I had literally no idea what I was doing. Chester was just a mess, as I’m sure you know.” She glanced at Anna, who was nodding, remembering. “It was when you were pregnant with Otis, and they were getting ready to leave out on tour again… and I just had a bad feeling. Chester was in a bad place, and I just asked Mike to keep an eye on him.”

“Mike never said anything to me about it,” Anna said quietly. “Not once.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to keep it from you. I didn’t ask him to. I was just so concerned about Chester being alone-”

“I guess that’s why they still have connecting rooms? I mean, that makes sense now.”

“See?” Talinda smiled. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you are picturing in your mind. I can see why you would worry, but that closeness, that’s just how they are. And even if it were more… I don’t want to know.”

Anna scooped the bits of napkin into her mug, tidying up the table. “I don’t want to know, either,” she decided. “I think I’ll be a whole lot happier if I stop looking for something there and focus on what I can do to make my relationship with Mike stronger. We’ve been together a long time, Tal. Fifteen years already.”

“And there’s no reason to think it won’t be another fifteen. And fifteen more after that,” Talinda said, reaching down for her gym bag. “Are you going to be okay? Even though I really should go, I’ll stay here if you’ve got more on your mind. I don’t want to work out today anyway.”

Waving a hand in dismissal, Anna shook her head. “I’m fine. It actually helps a lot to know you asked Mike to watch over Chester. I’m sure I’m just being ridiculous now. Seeing things that aren’t there.” She stood up and embraced her friend, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “Go on, I know you’re dying to get that workout in,” she teased.

Rolling her eyes, Talinda returned the kiss before she turned toward the door. “You know it. Call me if you need anything, okay? Seriously.”

Then she was gone, leaving Anna alone with thoughts that were even more troubling than they had been earlier.


	29. Part Three: Living Things -- Unanswered Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place on the same day as the last chapter. This shifts scene pretty fast, I hope it makes sense. This is the end of Living Things.

[March 5, 2013… continued]

A barista finally came by and took Anna and Talinda’s coffee mugs away, jarring Anna from her troubled thoughts. With a sense of resolve, and a plan, she stood up and collected her purse and sunglasses. It wouldn’t take much execute the plan she’d just made for Mike’s return, but she did need to start now.

After making a two quick phone calls and begging some favors, she turned her car toward the salon she’d frequented for the past ten years. Mike was going to come home to the woman he’d fallen in love with fifteen years ago. She had probably sat at the coffee shop for a half hour after Talinda left, neatly organizing her best friend’s thoughts with her own. 

It had been hard to admit her jealousy, and harder to hear that Talinda didn’t share that feeling. On the contrary, she felt affirmed that she was accepting of Mike and Chester’s relationship, whatever it actually was at this point. If Talinda was right, if there really wasn’t anything untoward happening between their husbands, then Anna was paranoid at best. If Talinda was wrong… Anna didn’t want to think about how much harder it would be to pull Mike back to her. She figured a change in her attitude might make a difference, and that was going to start here at the salon. 

Three hours later when she left, she sported shorter hair with a pink streak, fingernails and toenails in French tips, and all important locations were waxed to perfect smoothness. There was another stop at Mike’s favorite lingerie boutique, then a last stop at the market for the missing ingredients for his favorite dinner. By the time she arrived home, there were just a few hours left to prepare. The children had to be shuttled over to her parents before she could even start dinner. She had to get her beef stroganoff going before she could shower and change.

Her heart was skipping with anxiety and excitement as she smoothed Mike’s favorite lotion over her legs and looked at herself in the mirror. Appearances weren’t something she spent a lot of time worrying about, but now she looked over her naked body critically in the mirror, wondering what Mike saw when he looked at her. Did he see the stretch marks and the extra weight she carried after three kids? Did he see the way her breasts were no longer as perky as they were at twenty? Did he even really see her at all anymore, or were they so comfortable with each other now that it didn’t really matter?

She’d been just as guilty at taking him for granted, she supposed. At holding him, touching him, loving him out of habit. Tonight that was going to change, she thought, as she shimmied into the pale pink satin and lace teddy she’d purchased that afternoon. Mike had always loved her in pink, and she adjusted the straps so they wouldn’t fall before she slipped on the deep rose colored robe Mike had given her at Christmas. It was also satin, short enough to tease, and part of a set, but it worked just fine to conceal the new lingerie she wanted to hide until after dinner. 

For a moment she wavered between putting on makeup and going without before she decided to go all the way and do her eyes up the same as she used to for Mike’s club shows. By the time she was finished, the delicious scent of dinner was wafting though the house, and Mike would be home at any minute. With a last look in the mirror, she went downstairs to set the table, light the candles, and wait. 

**********

Like so many plane rides in all the years behind them, Mike woke up before landing with Chester’s head resting on his shoulder, their hands linked together between them. The weirdest thing about flying home from Australia was how they actually went backwards in time, despite the fifteen hour flight. They’d left Sydney at 9:30 pm on the fifth, and were set to arrive in Los Angeles a little after 6:00 pm on the fifth. It was the kind of math that gave Chester a headache, he’d complained to Mike before they departed hours ago.

They had somehow managed to stay awake for most of the flight, knowing that the jet lag would be a bitch if they slept the whole way into LA, alternating between watching movies, playing games, and simply talking to each other. Mike didn’t remember who fell asleep first, but it didn’t matter. They had spent their last night together as comfortably as they could, both of them secretly wishing for the comforts of a hotel room instead of the large first class seats that kept them more separated than they wanted. 

Chester didn’t know that the Australian tour had been a turning point for Mike, that he’d finally allowed himself to think the words, “I’m in love with Chester.” There was nothing to indicate a change, no difference in how Mike was acting toward him. They were the same as they always were, and they were going home. Off the road for months, assimilating back into home lives carefully cultivated by loving wives, back into lives where they had to be much more creative about spending time together. 

Mike’s heart ached when he thought about being away from Chester, wishing he could make the feelings go away, wishing he was as excited to go home like Brad and Dave and Joe. _It would be so much easier if I wasn’t in love with him. Or if I could do anything about it._

He turned to kiss the top of Chester’s head before he squeezed the vocalist’s hand. “Ches… Chester… wake up.”

The only response he got was a sleepy sigh as Chester snuggled his face closer to Mike’s.

“C’mon, Ches, we’re landing soon,” Mike tried again, his voice a little bit louder. He could feel Chester’s breath on his neck and tried to ignore them. “Chester,” he said, his voice firm. 

“What?” came a disgruntled reply, finally.

“We’re gonna land soon. Tray tables locked and seat backs upright, and all that,” Mike instructed, loosening his grip on Chester’s hand.

“Fine,” Chester whined, reaching up to rub his eyes. “I’m tired, Mikey.” He felt around the tray table for his glasses.

“I know. It’s probably worse that we fell asleep for a bit. But hopefully it won’t take long to get home, maybe we’ll be lucky with traffic,” Mike said optimistically, handing Chester his glasses and putting his tray table away for him. 

Mike sighed as his eyes dragged over Chester’s petulant face. He was going to miss those sleepy eyes in the morning.

“I can’t wait to get in my own bed,” Chester grumbled, and Mike felt a pain in his heart. 

_Here I am missing him already and he’s thinking about being in his own bed. All I will ever be is a warm body that keeps the nightmares away on the road._ Mike swallowed hard, fighting down the disappointment he was feeling to agree. “Yeah. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed.” He turned his attention to his backpack between his legs, avoiding Chester’s gaze. 

“You know what I meant,” Chester said quietly, watching Mike stuff his belongings back inside the bag.

With a nod of his head, Mike kept his eyes trained on his backpack as he replied, “yep, I hear you loud and clear.”

**********

Talinda sat at the small two person table in the kitchen, the house quiet for a moment. Tyler was occupied with a movie, both girls were asleep for once, and she ran her hand over the whitewashed tabletop while she thought about what she would say to Chester in just a few hours. She thought about how he always came home, without fail, and made love to her like it was the first time all over again. She thought about the conversation they had years ago, weeks into their whirlwind courtship, about Mike. The look on Chester’s face when he admitted his feelings for the emcee. The way he waited anxiously to see if that revelation, the last in a long list of things his soul had bared to her, would be the one to cause her to walk away. 

But she’d decided then - ex-wives, ex-girlfriends, children that weren’t hers by blood, a secret longing for his best friend - none of it diminished what he felt for her. So willingly she had become next in Chester’s life, and she felt as though she understood him better than those before her. She had never been a jealous person by nature, and it worked for them where it never had in his other relationships.

It didn’t bother her, the way women and men looked at her husband. At the end of the day, the end of the tour, he always came home to her. The things that Anna saw between their husbands… those things didn’t hurt her the way they hurt Anna. Talinda had been sharing Chester since their relationship started. Back when their marriage was new, Talinda had asked Mike to take care of him. In a way, perhaps, it was all her fault.

Deep down, she figured it wouldn’t have mattered if she gave it her blessing or not. Mike and Chester were two halves of a whole. There were things Mike could provide that she would never be able to give Chester, and she wasn’t going to stand between them. Even if one day, Mike figured out that what he really wanted was Chester, who was she to deny them each other? Would she be strong enough to let Chester go? Would she be able to put his happiness first instead of her own? To what expense? She was three children deep with him now, but the thought of someday raising them alone didn’t seem much different than raising them when Chester was working or on tour. He was a good father to Jaime, Isaiah, and Draven, despite being away so much. Despite his horrible relationship with Sam. 

Talinda shook her head. No, she’d never be like Sam. If Mike was what Chester needed to be safe, to be happy, to be _alive_ , and if that meant that she became Chester’s past instead of his future, did she love him enough to let him go? 

The cries of one of the babies brought her out of her thoughts and she headed upstairs, bewildered at the amount of time she must have spent lost in her thoughts and unanswerable questions. 

**********

There was no use wasting his last minutes with Chester with hurt feelings, and once they deplaned, Mike was back to himself - chatting with Chester and everyone else as they made their way to the vans awaiting them. There were quick hugs all the way around, and promises to meet up to work on the next album after everyone had time to decompress a little. Chester and Mike took their usual ride together, carefully discussing home, their children, and their wives. It was a conscious effort to bring their minds back into the reality of their lives away from Linkin Park. 

At some point during the ride, Mike’s melancholy mood lifted and he realized he was genuinely looking forward to the excited squeals of his children, the sweet baby smell of Josie’s head, and the warm embrace of his wife. He was exhausted from fighting the time change and anticipating a hot shower and his comfortable bed. He pushed away thoughts of the void left behind when Chester exited the van with only a lingering look at Mike before disappearing inside his home. He pushed away the mental image of Talinda welcoming Chester with her hands and her kisses. Mike wasn’t supposed to care that much, or to care in that specific way. Chester was not his to have. Coveting his best friend would lead nowhere, and he knew it. He focused on going home instead. 

Before he knew it he was thanking the driver as his luggage was deposited on the front steps, and he dug around in his backpack for his keys. It was time to step back into the Mike Shinoda that lived in this house buried in the hillside. If he could remember who that Mike Shinoda was supposed to be…

As he dragged his suitcases inside, he paused, noticing that the house seemed quiet. No children were running at the door and clamoring for his attention. _Are they not home yet? Surely Anna knew what time our flight landed. Why aren’t they home? It smells like dinner…_

Those questions were answered when he caught sight of Anna’s bare legs as she descended the stairs, the short pink robe he’d given her for Christmas tied around her waist. He felt the desire for her rush through his body as she smiled at him, her eyes dark and inviting, thoughts of Chester suddenly far away. “I thought I heard you,” she called softly, making her way to the door and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Welcome home.”

Mike’s hands found her hips instantly, pulling her close as their lips met in a passionate welcome home kiss. Anna’s fingers slid up into the back of his hair as he leaned down into her, his tongue meeting and pushing hers back, and she tilted her head to the side to allow him to kiss her deeply. The satin was smooth under his fingers as he stroked light circles over her hips and when she pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling, Mike forgot everything else but how his body had reacted to her presence. 

“Damn. What a homecoming,” he said, spreading his hand over her back and tugging at her robe.

“I made your favorite dinner,” she said, swatting his hands back. “You’re gonna have to wait for that unless you want burnt beef stroganoff.”

Mike shook his head and looked around. “Where are the kids?”

“My mom’s,” Anna replied, already moving toward the kitchen. 

Mike’s eyes followed her for a moment before he remembered he could walk with her. They passed the dining room and he saw two place settings, candles, and wine. “Wow, what’s the occasion?”

Anna stopped in the middle of the kitchen and turned to face him. She couldn’t say, I’m taking you back from Chester. I’m trying something new. I’m going to stop giving you a hard time and support the hell out of everything you do. I’m going to make you want to come home to me. I’m terrified of losing you and I don’t know what else to do. Instead, she smiled and said simply, “I missed you, honey.”

He couldn’t deny his desire for his wife any more than he could deny his desire for Chester, and the emotions Mike felt right then, looking at Anna, threatened to tear him into pieces. How could he be in love with Anna and Chester? What did that even look like for his future? How could he continue his life with her when he longed for Chester’s touch? What did it mean, his need for both of them? 

Mike pushed it all away, worries he would have to process later, as he took his seat at the table and enjoyed his wife’s cooking. He pushed thoughts of Chester out of his mind and focused on Anna. He pushed away the creeping feeling that everything was starting to unravel at the edges.

His words were genuine when he commented, “you look beautiful. I love your hair,” petting the pink strand and tucking it behind her ear, and Anna’s responding giggle was almost as shy as it had been years ago at the party where they’d met. The candlelight cast a mysterious glow over them both and they caught each other’s lustful gazes more than a few times over dinner and light conversation. He didn’t resist when Anna’s hand slid up his thigh under the table, his exhaustion suddenly dropping away, and she didn’t stop him when he stood up and pulled her close, husking into her ear, “let’s go upstairs.”

Mike brushed the satin robe from her shoulders, kissing the skin he exposed tenderly, running his hands down to the small of her back over the lacy teddy she was wearing. Anna allowed his hands to wander for a while, savoring his attention before she wordlessly reached for his belt, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping as his kisses moved down her neck and made hot, wet spots on the satin over her nipples. 

She slid down to her knees, catching Mike’s questioning eyes before she tugged down his boxers and grasped his erection that sprang free. As she took him into her mouth, Mike let his mind go blank, let his body enjoy the warmth of her mouth and the feel of her tongue, a blow job he didn’t have to ask for and for which he’d been unprepared. It wasn’t the way they usually did this.

When his knees were weak and he felt the orgasm coming he gasped out her name, his hands in her hair pushing her gently away and reaching to pull her up, crushing her lips under his and lifting her to the bed. Within minutes he’d stripped the lingerie from her body and was dropping fervent kisses over her skin as his fingers traced over her body and down until he found her wet and swollen with desire for him, and that was all the invitation needed to crawl between his wife’s legs and take her in a passionate reunion. 

He watched as she met his thrusts, as her eyes unfocused and he knew she was close. Burying his hands in her hair he concentrated on bringing her off first, her voice in his ear as she said his name over and over. Mike focused on the sound of her voice, her nails digging into his backside, focused on the pleasure of the moment as she rode the waves down and then breathily suggested, “let me on top,” before he wrapped an arm around her and pulled them over.

He watched her on her knees again, this time as she moved up and down, her hands braced against his bent knees behind her. Mike couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve this bliss, and whether she might climax again, as he reached out and cupped her breasts, softly pinching her nipples as she gazed at him through half closed eyes. Before long, though, his hands found their way to her hips and he pulled her down firmly to meet each thrust as the sensations built, until he couldn’t hold back any longer and came deep within her, his fingers digging into her soft skin and his head thrown back against the sheets in euphoria. 

Mike was still inside her as Anna sank down to kiss his face and stroke his hair, as she whispered, “I love you,” and he caught her lips with his, pressing them together with a hand on the back of her head.

“Fuck, Anna,” he whispered after he pulled away from the kiss, his thoughts jumbled. “I didn’t expect… I mean… damn…”

She smiled and dug her fingers into his sweaty hair. “I know… welcome home.”

Once they’d showered and climbed back into bed, Mike felt the edges of sleep coming to drag him under. Anna’s frame was so different from Chester’s, so small and delicate against him, all smooth and soft. Gently caressing the skin of her stomach, his mind drifted along, marveling at the way her body snapped back after each pregnancy. 

It was truly amazing to him that she was as beautiful as the day they met. He’d been fighting with himself for years, knowing that she deserved more of his time, more of his attention, and all of his love. Nothing about his feelings for Chester was her fault in the slightest. She was asleep, peaceful and content against his chest, and he was left with a mind full of questions that would plague him in his sleep. 

How could he love two people so intensely? And how could he do right by his wife knowing that he loved his best friend, too? How would he ever be able to reconcile all of this, be a good man, but make himself happy as well? At what point was what he wanted important - or would it ever be important? What could he do to make things right?

**********

Chester’s homecomings were always joyful reunions, lots of kisses and talking, playing with Tyler and showering Talinda with attention. Even Lily and Lila seemed to understand that Daddy was home, their tiny smiles and waving fists contributing to the happiness and laughter.

Talinda waited until after dinner, after showers, and after the kids were asleep to crawl into bed behind her husband and snuggle up to his back. Her intention was to talk, to reconnect a little, and maybe tell him about her earlier conversation with Anna, but before she could even get comfortable, Chester turned and caught her around the waist, pulling her close to him with a deep sigh of relief.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, kissing the corner of her mouth, feeling her hands as they looped around his back and stroked his skin softly. He felt the curves of her body and the softness of her breasts pressed against him, and despite his exhaustion, he felt his body reacting to his wife’s touch. Chester watched her smile as she wiggled closer, feeling his erection on her stomach. 

“I missed you, too,” she whispered, bringing a hand around to touch him intimately, a few light strokes through his pajama pants. “I know you’re tired, babe.”

“Not so tired I don’t want to make love to my beautiful wife,” Chester answered, pushing his hips forward and his cock into her hand. With his eyes closed he spread tiny kisses over her cheeks and chin, inhaling the coconut scent of the shampoo that lingered in Talinda’s hair. “I know you don’t want to wait either,” he whispered, pulling back to search her eyes, gratified to see she was as turned on as he was already.

With a small smile, Talinda whispered back, “you’re right, I don’t.” One hand went under the waistband of his pajama pants as their lips met with soft, loving pressure and seeking tongues. Despite Chester’s already leaking erection in her hand, she knew he would take his time, touching and kissing her entire body before he gave any thought to taking care of his need.

He worshipped his wife’s body, giving every place that caused her to gasp and moan under his touch extra attention, sucking on her dark nipples, nuzzling his nose along her stomach, burying his face between her legs until she came, trembling under the attention of his tongue and seeking fingers. Chester always made sure his wife was satisfied first, hoping he could satisfy her again when he was deep inside her. He was an attentive and compassionate lover, tender and respectful of her body and her mind. It was important to him to take care of her mind, maybe even more so than her physical desires. Their love and understanding of each other ran deep. 

It was why, in the afterglow of their reunion, Talinda could tell that part of Chester’s mind was elsewhere. She could feel that he was holding something back from her, even in the most intimate moment of his release. There was something else lingering between them. 

Even after they made bathroom trips and reclaimed their clothing, the nagging sense of space between them emotionally wouldn’t go away. As they lay on their sides facing each other, with Talinda’s fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, she knew if there was a time to ask about Mike, this was it. Chester was as open and vulnerable as he was going to get. With a deep breath, she looked him straight in the eyes and asked, “are you okay? I’m feeling your distraction a little bit, babe.”

What kind of answer could Chester give to that question? Could he tell her that for a split second as he was climaxing, Mike’s face flashed through his mind? That sometimes on tour in the shower he jerked off to thoughts of Mike instead of her? That he didn’t know what to do about the secret nighttime kisses they had shared, didn’t know what Mike would think if he told him? 

He closed his eyes, away from her gaze. “I’m sorry. I… I’m not sure what to say. There’s all this stuff in my head…” 

Grasping on to the bliss from minutes ago and letting that bolster her confidence, Talinda said softly, “I can tell. Whatever it is, you know I’ll listen. I already think I know, anyway.”

Chester cracked his eyes in surprise. “You want to talk about this now?” He watched his wife nod, and he sighed. “How do you always know?”

“It’s Mike, right? You’re always missing him when you come home. Every time, baby.”

“Yeah. Mike… I do miss him when we’re off the road. I’m used to him being there… doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being home, or that I don’t miss you when I’m away,” he said, reaching to run a finger down the side of Talinda’s face. 

“I know that. I’ll never question that.” Talinda smiled softly. “I was talking with Anna today, discussing you and Mike, and I just… I need you to be honest with me, Chester. Is there something going on between you and Mike? Anything you’re not telling me?”

For a flash of a moment, Chester considered not telling the truth. It was the sincerity, the openness in his wife’s eyes, that had words spilling from his lips. “Mike doesn’t know anything, Tal. I know you know how I feel about him… you’re my better half, my love… and Mike is my missing half. Everything in my life came together when we met.”

Talinda nodded in encouragement. “I’ve always known your relationship with him is deep, Chester. I knew it before I ever met him. You made it clear to me that I was sharing your heart with him, and I willingly walked into that, you know that. And I know how much you need him.” 

Chester turned over onto his back, staring at the ceiling the same way he’d done in the hotel with Mike almost twenty-four hours ago. He was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but there was a certain relief in sharing his secret. “We’ve kissed, babe, but Mike doesn’t know about it. He’s kissed me in his sleep.” He shut his eyes, heard Talinda’s deep breath from beside him… and waited.

“Are you serious?” Talinda asked quietly, her voice sympathetic.

He didn’t expect the sympathy from his wife and felt ashamed as her slender hand stroked down his arm soothingly. Without opening his eyes, he mumbled, “yeah. He has no idea.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “I know I should have told you we were sleeping together, Tal. I wasn’t afraid of your reaction, but more how he would feel about me telling you. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to keep a secret like that from Anna either.”

Talinda snuggled herself tightly into Chester’s side, stroking her fingers over his stomach as he curled an arm around her back. “She wouldn’t like it very much, that’s true.”

“I just… I sleep better with him there. I don’t have the nightmares, and it’s such a relief. I hate that I’m so dependent on him… and then there’s his sleep talking… he’s always got so much on his mind, too.” Chester sighed, bringing his hand up to tangle in Talinda’s long hair. “I don’t think it means anything on his side, baby. I think he’s just… lonely when we’re away.” 

“Anna seems to think there’s something more between you two,” Talinda confessed quietly. 

Chester shook his head and kissed the top of Talinda’s head. “I don’t think so, not for him.” He sighed long and low. “I love him, Tal. I don’t want to screw things up with us, and I haven’t told him what happened. I don’t want anything to change. I don’t want you to be angry-”

“I told you, I understand. And… of all the people in the world, I can’t think of anyone else I’d be willing to share your love with than Mike. Whatever is there, whatever is between you, it’s genuine. It’s mutual. And all I’ve ever wanted for you is for you to be comfortable in your own skin. If Mike makes you feel that way…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish her thoughts.

“I don’t deserve you,” Chester said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t deserve your understanding, Tal. My mind has always been a jumble of emotions… I promise you, I’m not trying to force anything between me and Mike.”

Talinda nodded, bringing their lips together in a soft embrace. “Just… stay honest with me, Chester. Let me know where I stand. That’s all I’m asking.”

It was all she would ask out loud, tonight, tomorrow night, maybe even next week or next month or next year. Everything else would have to go unanswered for now. 

**End of Part Three: Living Things**


	30. Part Four: THP -- The Lip Ring

[June 14, 2014]

Chester watched from across the room as Mike pulled on the red troll hair wig and fussed with it in the mirror. From where he was standing, if he squinted, he could see twenty-three year old Mike again, his hoop earrings and his bright red hair, his boyish cheeks and the scruffy dark facial hair on his chin. He could see his dark eyes shining with playfulness. A smile crossed Chester’s lips before he turned away, taking a deep breath and adjusting his in-ear monitors again.

“You look as ridiculous now as you did fourteen years ago,” Brad teased with an eye roll in Mike’s direction. “After all this time, I still have no idea what possessed you to dye your hair bright red.” He rose from the floor, where he’d been cutting the bottom off a brand new pair of pants for tonight’s show, waving his hand in the general direction of Mike’s head. 

Mike glanced at Brad’s reflection and stuck out his tongue at the guitarist. “I think it was Chester’s idea. Or maybe Chester did it himself. I can’t really remember.” He tugged on the end of his shirt and grinned. “It does look ridiculous, though, you aren’t wrong.”

“I seem to remember a long, drunken conversation on the bus about your hair needing an overhaul, and a drugstore stop before a night in a shady hotel,” Dave offered from the wardrobe as he selected a pair of shoes for the performance.

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Ches?” Mike called to the vocalist, hoping to gain his attention. They’d been occupying the same physical space all day, but the mental connection seemed to be lacking. Chester had seemed off ever since Mike had shown him the red wig and recited his plans for the evening. 

“I take no responsibility for that monstrosity,” Chester answered, smirking at the sight of Mike’s hair, the bright kool-aid red wig a sharp contrast to his black eyebrows and facial hair. “That hair was all you!”

Dave shook his head. “No way. I remember listening to you guys in the back of the bus. You-” he pointed at Chester- “were going on and on about Mike’s hair needing to be dyed, and you promised him you knew the perfect color. Mike was drunk off his ass and agreeing with everything you said. I remember it like it was yesterday. Once you got started, Chester, there was no shutting you up. And Mike would go along with anything you suggested.”

With his hands on his hips, Mike scoffed indignantly, “that’s not true. I don’t always agree with Chester.” He looked like a troll doll, his eyes wide and his hair fluffy, and Chester tried not to laugh at him as their eyes met. “I don’t, everyone in here has equal opportunity to win an argument.”

“ _Please_ ,” Joe jumped into the conversation, a bag of Doritos in one hand. “You two always end up on the same side together. And that’s how we end up doing things like this, with you wearing a red troll wig.” He fell back onto the couch in the dressing room and shoved a couple of chips in his mouth.

As Mike shook his head, Dave exclaimed, “see? You two together are dangerous.”

“Come on, we _all_ agreed on doing this festival, it’s not like I just dictated it would be so,” Mike complained, looking around the circle of his bandmates. Everyone was looking at him it that ‘whatever you say, Shinoda’ face. “I mean, I did say this would be fun. But we all agreed. Whatever. You’re all just jealous you can’t go back in time as easily as I can.” He patted the top of his head. “Don’t I look twenty-three again?” 

“You do,” Chester answered immediately. “I was thinking that, a few minutes ago. How you look just the same as I remember.” Mike’s eyes caught his and they both smiled before Chester looked away, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. He had ample memories of Mike with his bright red hair, and seeing it on him again, even as a joke, brought all of those memories flooding back.

There was a split second of silence before Mike said, “if we’d thought about it sooner we could have gotten your red mohawk back, too. Even though that wasn’t my favorite hair on you.” It was his turn to flush slightly as he thought about Chester’s curls he’d always wanted to touch, years before he’d even realized he was in love with the vocalist.

“Oh yeah? What was?” Chester could feel his heartbeat pick up as he wondered what Mike would say. He’d had so many hairstyles over the years it was impossible to guess which was the emcee’s favorite. 

With a wink, Mike said, “blonde. Those blonde curls, blonde spikes, anything blonde, Ches. There was just something about you blonde that’s unforgettable.” _It made your eyes so beautifully deep and dark, and so appealing._

The smile on Mike’s lips held secrets, and Chester wanted to hear those secrets badly. There was an unmistakable wistfulness in his eyes as they looked at each other, each clearly able to see the other in their mind as they had looked years ago. The passage of time hadn’t diminished any of their memories of each other. Performing their entire first album in order tonight at the Download Festival would be a little bit like going back in time. They were both looking forward to it more than they had admitted to each other.

“The only thing missing now is your bracelets,” Chester offered, gesturing at Mike, remembering how they wore loads of jewelry during the first couple of years. How Chester wished for a thick black leather band to strap around Mike’s wrist right now. The thought of Mike now wearing the accessories of Mike then was a huge turn on, causing Chester to sigh in frustration. “We didn’t plan this very well. I could have dressed you up good, Mikey. Remember, you even used to wear nail polish back in the day.”

“Only because you liked it,” Mike said, his voice a little bit strained, feeling the connection between them return like a jolt of electricity. He felt like he was admitting too much, but luckily nobody but Joe was paying much attention to the path he and Chester had turned down.

“Come on, you lovebirds,” the deejay teased, “you can finish reminiscing after the show.”

Chester shrugged off the endearment effortlessly, even though his heart was still racing. “I plan to reminisce the _entire show_ , Hahn,” he said, almost skipping out of the room after he looked pointedly at Mike one last time. 

The rest of the band followed, meeting up with Rob, who had been hanging out back stage and listening to the band in front of them. Mike found himself next to Chester in the pre-show huddle, their arms carelessly looped around each other as the band went through their rituals. 

Over the past several months, Mike had felt more in control of himself, as though he’d pushed back from that edge he’d been teetering on during the last tour. They had all gone home and spent time with their families before dabbling in the next record, the one they’d released yesterday. It had evolved from fluffy pop to guitar heavy aggression over the course of the year they’d worked on it, and even though Mike was satisfied with how _The Hunting Party_ eventually turned out, the whole process had felt strained to him.

The usual hours he spent holed up with Chester writing lyrics were reduced significantly due to obligations at home for both men, and when they were together, everything was strictly business on a tight timeline. He’d longed for the closeness they shared on tour, even as he embraced the time he was spending with Anna and the children. 

Now, standing with Chester, about to go back to sing their very first album, Mike could feel that longing he’d hidden underneath the surface trying to break loose again. He thought of the blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into getting that first record deal. The strife they’d endured making the album. The grueling show schedule they’d lived for the first three years. The bonds they had forged between them in those early years… those were bonds that had only become stronger as time passed. 

Even if the past fifteen months had been strange, when they were back together on the road, it was as though that time at home had never existed. It had been easier to deny his feelings for the vocalist when they were apart, but as soon as they’d gone back out on the road a few weeks ago, it all came rushing back. All that existed in Mike’s world again was Chester- that was what being on the road did to him every time. He left the husband and father version of Mike in Los Angeles and fully embraced being Linkin Park’s Mike… but mostly Chester’s Mike. He belonged completely to Chester on tour, and the welcome normalcy of it all scared him a little.

He felt Chester’s arm slip down, hugging him closer as the huddle broke, and it was time. He’d missed most of what had been said in the huddle, as lost in his own thoughts as he’d been, and now it was time to focus. The roar of the crowd when they came out on stage and started Papercut was thrilling, and Mike lost himself completely in the set, throwing himself into every line, waiting for each opportunity to join Chester down on the b-stage. 

They made their way through the tracks effortlessly, each song bringing back memories of past performances, their hands reaching for each other throughout the set. Mike lost the red hair somewhere in the first few songs, but he didn’t mind. The point had been made. He’d seen the flicker of recognition in Chester’s eyes, and he’d felt the buoyancy of that awareness in his footsteps the rest of the evening. He could feel Chester’s eyes on him, that electricity between them, and Chester had caught his stare more than once. The way the vocalist’s lips slowly curled into a smile every time their eyes met propelled Mike through every song from their first album, then through their second set of newer material. 

By the time they were finished and back stage, Mike was exhausted physically and emotionally. The beginning of the performance had been a throw back to the hard days when they were first starting out, and Mike was appreciative of just how far they had all come together. They had new, fancy tour busses now, they flew whenever they could, and they were the headliners now, performing after sundown most of the time. He remembered the early days of opening for someone else, the blistering heat and the dehydration that came with it. Now they existed in relative comfort, and Mike was grateful. Grateful they were still making music, still touring, and still liked each other. So many of the bands they had shared a stage with back in the _Hybrid Theory_ days were no longer together.

“Awesome job tonight,” he said in Chester’s ear, slipping an arm around his sweaty shoulders without even a second thought as they walked down the corridor to the dressing room. “You sounded amazing.”

Chester smiled and turned to swipe a quick kiss across Mike’s cheek. “It was a good night. You were totally on, too. You get better and better every day,” he said sincerely.

Basking in the glow of Chester’s compliment, Mike kept his arm around the vocalist as they walked together into the dressing room and parted ways, each grabbing the towels tossed to them to finish drying off as best they could, each of them lost in their own thoughts as everyone prepared to leave the venue.

Jim came into the dressing room, Mike’s red hair in his hands and amusement written all over his face. “Found this back stage, you want it?” he asked Mike, tossing it over to the emcee as he guzzled down a bottle of water.

“Nah, you can trash it,” Mike said, throwing it like a frisbee back at the tour manager. “Those days are long gone. Thankfully.” He finished his bottle and picked up another while Jim deposited the wig into the waste bin.

One by one the members of Linkin Park left the dressing room until it was just Chester and Mike, sitting on the couch next to each other, too tired to stand up. There was more silence between them, but it was comfortable, and Mike was resting his eyes for just a moment when he heard Chester say his name. 

He smiled softly and reached over, plucking Mike’s hat off his head and twirling it around on his hand. “You really don’t remember? The night your hair turned red?”

Mike kept his eyes on his hat in Chester’s hands, the way it was spinning on one fist, as he said, “not really. I remember waking up and having red hair, that’s about it.” Something about Chester’s tone of voice told him there was more to this story than just hair dye. Trying to keep his voice level, he asked, “do you? Remember, that is? Was it like Dave said?”

“Kind of. I remember what happened.” He waited a moment, then said, “you know, back then if you met me drink for drink, you’d be drunk off your ass and I’d be barely buzzing. I drank way too much back then.” Chester somehow managed to sound amused and unhappy at the same time. 

“You did.” Mike ventured a glance at the vocalist, who was also watching the hat spin on his hand. “And you’re right, I tried to keep up with you and probably could have killed myself trying. I’m glad those days are behind us.” Thoughts like that had been swimming in his head all evening. “There’s a lot of things I’m glad are behind us now, like being the opening act and playing sets in the sun. But most of all, I’m glad that you aren’t drinking like that anymore, and I’m glad we’re still together. I was really thinking about that out on stage tonight.” 

“Me, too,” Chester said, then dropped his voice to a whisper, as though he were ashamed of what came out of his mouth next. “I don’t know if I could have gotten sober without you, Mikey. You’re the reason I work at it every day.”

Mike closed his eyes, biting his lip as he inhaled slowly. He could feel the intimacy level rising again, even though they were sitting backstage, even though at any moment, one of the other guys could walk right in on their conversation. “I’m grateful you want to work at it, Ches. I don’t know what we would have become without you. I don’t even want to think about it.” 

Chester fitted Mike’s hat over his head backwards and reached over to take Mike’s hand. He watched as Mike opened his eyes and settled his gaze onto his face. “I’m not going to let you down, I hope you know that.” 

They looked at each other for a moment, and Mike couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a little something more in Chester’s eyes right then. _Would it be so awful to admit that I’m in love with him? I can swear I see it in his eyes too, when we talk like this. I know I’m probably just making that up, that all we’re ever going to be is exactly what we are now… but what is that, exactly? Non-intimate lovers is the only way to describe it. Non-physically intimate lovers. Because he sure as hell knows me more intimately than anyone else._ “I know, Ches, and I love you for that.” He swallowed hard, feeling the way those words felt on his tongue, words he wished he could say in a different way, before he hastily went on, “now… tell me how I ended up with red hair. What exactly happened that night?”

Before Chester could launch into the story, Dave poked his head into the dressing room. “Jim sent me back for you two. We’re already in the vans, ready to go. Are you coming, or what?”

“Yeah, we’re coming,” Chester answered, standing up and plucking Mike’s hat off his head. He reached and put it back on Mike before he stood up. “Later,” Chester promised. “I’ll tell you about it tonight before we go to sleep.”

Mike just nodded his head, the closeness dissolving as they left the venue and followed Dave out to the van.

**********

Later that evening, after dinner and showers and phone calls to wives, Mike lay on his side, his arm tucked up underneath the pillow as he got comfortable. He watched Chester do the same, rolling onto his side to face the emcee and mimicking his pose. This was always a favorite part of the day, the relaxing moments they shared in bed. His eyes moved over Chester’s long sleeved blue pajama shirt and up to his eyes, and Mike felt peaceful the moment the two of them settled in next to each other. This was the feeling he missed when they weren’t together. This was the feeling he’d missed the whole time they worked on the last last album. All that frustration manifested itself in angry lyrics and guitar riffs, ready to torture them both for the next year and a half on tour. 

With a smile, he said “tell me about it now,” and Chester knew immediately what he meant.

Without preamble, Chester went right in to the story he hadn’t been able to finish earlier. “Dave was right about us drinking. It was one of those long days on the bus, and you and I spent most of it in the back, fucking around with lyrics and drinking beer. We barely knew each other, but we were already so comfortable… do you remember that?” Chester paused and waited for Mike to answer.

“Yeah… it was just like that from the beginning. Comfortable,” Mike agreed, thinking back again to the early years the way he’d been doing all day. “It’s crazy to think of it now, but yeah, we were always able to talk and relate to each other.”

Chester nodded before he went on. “You’d had so much to drink you couldn’t even sit up anymore. Your… your head was in my lap, and I was messing around with your hair.” He paused and looked at Mike, whose eyes were round and dark as he waited for Chester to continue. “I told you I thought you’d look sexy with red hair, and you told me to shut up.” Chester smiled fondly at the memory.

Mike was listening intently, trying his best to conjure any memories of that night. _I must have had so much to drink! I don’t remember any of this! I wonder what I was thinking when he called me sexy. Well, he was just joking. He still jokes like that._ “That sounds like exactly what I would say,” Mike said, smiling at the thought of drunk Mike arguing with Chester.

“And then I told you that we were gonna dye it at the hotel, and all you did was laugh about it. I don’t think you thought I was serious. But I was, and as soon as the bus stopped I went into some drugstore on the corner and got the dye. That was back in the day we shared rooms-”

“I remember those days-”

“And by the time I got up to the room you had almost fallen asleep. But I managed to get you into… the bathroom and get it done.” Chester stopped abruptly, a sudden snippet of memory flashing across his mind.

Mike caught the look immediately. “What? What else happened?”

“That’s it. I dyed your hair, we went to sleep, and when we woke up your pillowcase was red too. I think I remember we had to pay for the pillow and sheets.” Chester closed his eyes against Mike’s inquisitive stare.

“There’s something else you’re not saying,” Mike prodded, reaching over to poke Chester in the stomach. “I can tell. Out with it, Bennington.”

Chester cracked open one eye and regarded his best friend. “You really don’t remember _any_ of this?”

“Nope. I just remember having red hair one morning. I can tell _you_ remember more than you’re saying.” Mike found his fingertips skimming over Chester’s side and pulled them back, resting his hand in the space between them.

“Well… yeah. I think… well, you got in the bathtub for me to do your hair,” Chester said quickly, his eyes darting down to Mike’s hand between them. “You weren’t totally naked or anything,” he rushed to say. “You’d already stripped down to your boxers for bed. I just got you into the tub to keep the dye from going everywhere.” 

Mike nodded his head, a grin stretching across his face. “Sounds smart, Ches. Better than having to pay to clean up the bathroom, too.” 

“You were sooooo drunk,” Chester whispered, reaching to cover Mike’s hand with his own, linking their fingers together the way they so often did. “You had your head leaned back in my hands while I was working on your hair, and you were mumbling about my lip ring,” Chester admitted, his face flushing a little bit. 

“I _what_?” Mike said, his senses suddenly on full alert. He knew that he’d found Chester’s lip ring sexy back in the day, and he was completely terrified thinking that he’d let that secret out during a half naked hair dying job. 

“It was cute,” Chester shrugged his free shoulder, and smiled. “You babbled on and on about whether or not you should get another piercing, and how much you wanted to know what it felt like… and you may or may not have asked me if you could kiss me to find out.” Chester’s eyes glittered in the lamp light and Mike decided it was amusement dancing in his best friend’s eyes. It couldn’t be anything else. 

“Oh my God,” Mike said flatly, turning his face and burying it in the pillow. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” He wanted to die from the embarrassment.

Chester hesitated for a moment before he said, “I really thought all this time that you remembered the whole night, and you were just embarrassed of what you said and didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t know you didn’t remember. I figured it was one of those unspoken agreements, never to speak of it again… like things I’ve told you before about my childhood…” 

His voice trailed off and Mike knew Chester’s mind was headed down dangerous paths. Knowing he needed to stop those thoughts before they got too far, he swallowed his pride and moved his face out of the pillow. “Well, okay. I mean, I wish you would have told me I was being weird that night. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable… all things considered.” He looked curiously at Chester, knowing that if he’d made him feel uncomfortable or threatened all those years ago, Chester wouldn’t be laying next to him now. But still, he had to say it, just to be certain.

“You were cute, actually,” Chester said softly, and he knew Mike caught the brief look down at his lips. He heard Mike’s sharp breath in, but he went on anyway. “Good thing I got rid of that lip ring. No telling what might have happened,” he teased gently, squeezing Mike’s hand. 

There was a moment of silence, and Mike knew he had to shake off the mood before he did something he’d regret. “You wish, Ches,” he responded lightly, withdrawing his hand from Chester’s and pushing up on his elbows. “We ought to get to sleep, tomorrow’s an early start, right?”

The teasing sparkle left Chester’s eyes and he nodded. “Yep. We’re supposed to be downstairs at six in the morning.” He watched Mike turn to click off the lamp, and then the room was shrouded in darkness. He felt Mike’s movements as he slid back down in the bed, the sheets and blanket rustling as he got comfortable again. There was at least a foot of space between them, and Chester heard Mike sigh as he stopped moving. 

“Good night, Mike.” He wanted to apologize for upsetting him, but he didn’t quite know what to say. Instead he turned over, his back to Mike the way they usually slept now, except there was an empty space against his back. Cold air where there was usually warm Mike. 

“Night, Ches,” Mike whispered from his side of the bed. He didn’t know what to say, either, and he lay tense for a long time until he heard Chester’s breathing smooth out. It was his signal, and Mike slid over, looping his arm over Chester’s waist and snuggling into his warmth the way they always did now. _It’s okay to do this. We’ve been doing this for so long, it’s just normal._

What wasn’t normal was the soft kiss Mike placed on the back of Chester’s neck before he fell asleep- a soft kiss that Chester felt even though he was on the edge of sleep.


	31. Part Four: THP -- Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As we get closer to the end of this story, it’s taking longer to align everything and have it make sense, and lead into Confession properly. So… thank you for your patience. This chapter includes a pivotal moment mentioned in Confession. Enjoy.

[August 7, 2014]

Mike dug his spoon into the dark chocolate ice cream he was holding, scooping up a bit that had the brownie smashed inside it. There was strawberry ice cream dripping from Otis’ chin, and sprinkles around Abi’s mouth. Anna was laughing at something one of the children had said, and Josie was eating graham crackers next to him between bites of the ice cream he was helping her with. The ice cream shop wasn’t crowded in the middle of the week on an afternoon, and Mike had his hat pulled low over his eyes. He wasn’t worried he’d be recognized.

It was their last family moment before he left out on tour again, and even though it was only for a month, Mike felt compelled to make sure that he spent every second he could with his kids. He looked around at their sweet faces and felt a pang of regret knowing how much they missed him when he was away. He loved them all, but he was especially close to his youngest. The sweet baby girl whose announcement had shocked him, the baby that pulled him back to his family when he’d been drifting away. The baby that was now a toddler. 

He reached over and curled a lock of Josie’s hair around his finger. “I love you, baby girl,” he cooed, smiling as she cried, “love oo!”

“Papa, when will you be back?” Otis asked as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

“Use your napkin, son,” Mike instructed. “I’ll be back in four weeks. The middle of September.” He watched as his son’s face dropped into a pout. “Hey, it’s not too long. I’ll Facetime you every night,” he promised.

“An’ me!” Abi screeched from across the table. “Me, too!” 

Mike nodded. “And you. And baby girl. All of you.”

“And mama?” Otis asked, his little face worried.

Anna caught Mike’s eyes as he nodded his head. “Of course, buddy. Mama too.” 

The kids continued their chatter as Anna regarded Mike. She hoped she wouldn’t have to explain to Otis why Papa forgot to call every night like he’d promised. Mike always started tours with good intentions, then his calls would slip to every other night, then twice a week. She had to admit that since the children had been old enough to really talk back he’d been better about calling, but she knew that the promise of Facetime every night just wouldn’t last. She wished he hadn’t said anything at all. 

They were upstairs an hour later, and Mike was zipping his suitcase when she finally said something about it. 

“Are you really going to Facetime Otis every night?” she asked, her forehead wrinkled in worry. “You know how he is, Mike. He’ll know if you forget.”

Mike sighed as he stood up, lifting the handle on his suitcase. “I know. As soon as I said it I regretted it. It’s hard, we get so busy out on the road…”

Anna bit her tongue. She wanted to cut in, to tell him that if he’d just come to his room after the show and go to bed instead of spending time with Chester, he’d have time to call his kids. But she held back, continuing her promise to herself to be _supportive._ “I just hate it when he’s disappointed. Maybe you can set a reminder or something.” She pointed to Mike’s phone that was laying on the bed.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Mike said appreciatively. “You know I don’t forget on purpose, Anna.” He eyed her speculatively, wondering if she was about to start an argument about Chester right as he was leaving.

To his relief, she didn’t say anything, she just nodded and watched as he set himself a reminder for each night. Once he was finished, and his phone stowed in his pocket, she closed the distance between them, sliding her arms around his waist. “I’ll miss you,” she murmured into his chest, breathing in his scent deeply. 

Mike laced one hand into her hair and pressed her face into him, the other arm going around her shoulders. “I’ll miss you, too. This is a short one, though. It won’t be so bad. And Josie’s sleeping through the night, it will be easier.” Even though she was almost two, their youngest daughter had been difficult to sleep train, especially when Mike was home. She wanted to be with her father all the time.

“Yeah,” Anna responded, her eyes closed. The familiar desperation she felt when Mike left her these days crashed over her. Every time it seemed she made progress with him, he left again… and when he returned home, she had to start all over again, reclaiming him from Chester. 

Before she could say anything more, the front bell rang. “There’s my ride,” he said, and Anna swallowed the disappointment she felt at the excitement in his voice. “I’ll call when we get in tonight. Promise,” he said firmly as he kissed her forehead.

At the front door, everyone said their goodbyes, and Mike managed to escape with only Josie dissolving into tears. His heart sank as he made his way down the front steps, the sound of her wails muffled as Anna closed the door behind him. When he sat down in the back of the van, making conversation with the driver, he turned and looked back at his home, catching sight of Otis in the small window next to the door, peering out after him. Even though he knew his son couldn’t see him through the tinted windows, he waved goodbye as the car pulled away, headed for Dave’s.

They picked up the bassist next, then headed to Chester’s. Chester’s was the last stop on the way to the airport, where they’d be meeting up with Rob, Joe, and Brad. Long gone were the days they got their own rides to LAX. Mike sat with his hands on his thighs, fingering through piano parts on his legs as he and Dave chatted, his eyes flicking out the window every so often to gauge how much longer it was to Chester’s place. He was keyed up and excited, ready to get the Carnivores tour underway. It was promising to be great shows, with AFI and Thirty Seconds to Mars opening for them. 

“All of the girls were crying when I left,” Dave was saying in response to Mike’s lamenting over leaving Josie crying in Anna’s arms. “You have no idea how hard it is to leave with three little girls screaming their heads off for you.”

“Mmmhmm,” Mike hummed as they pulled into Chester’s driveway. “That’s gotta be worse than just one screaming her head off,” he agreed absently. He was already scanning the front for Chester since he’d texted him at the second to last turn before they arrived.

He spotted his best friend in the doorway, a backpack slung over one shoulder and the handle of a suitcase in each hand. It was so like Chester to over pack his necessities, even when he knew there would be new clothes on tour for him to wear. Mike was willing to bet that one entire suitcase was full of shoes. 

He opened his mouth to make a joke to Dave but didn’t get that far. Instead he watched speechless as Chester stopped in the door and turned, Talinda wrapping her arms around Chester’s neck and pulling him to her, her goodbye kiss long and possessive. He watched them exchange words and smiles before Chester finally stepped outside, his suitcases rolling along behind him. 

Without a word to Dave, Mike slid the side door of the van open and stepped out. “Hey,” he called over to the vocalist, “need help with all your shoes?” His grin was wide as he watched Chester struggle down the walk with both suitcases. 

“It’s not _all_ shoes,” Chester complained good naturedly. “But if you’re offering, get your ass over here and get this suitcase, Shinoda.” He stopped and held one handle out toward Mike. 

Mike practically hopped over to his friend and took the second suitcase. “Don’t lie to me, Ches. You always pack more shoes than clothes. Good thing we wear the same size. Being with you quadruples the amount of footwear I have access to on tour.” 

“Tal gave me shit about taking all these shoes, too, so I told her they weren’t all for me. I said, ‘half of these are for my boy Mikey’ and she backed the fuck off.” Chester grinned and shook his head. “Well, I thought it in my head, anyway.”

With a playful slap at Chester’s arm, Mike laughed, loud and genuine. “She’d kick your ass if she heard you talking like this.” Together they loaded the suitcases into the back and took their seats inside, Chester climbing over into the back seat and insisting that Dave stay where he was as he launched into a mostly embellished and very elaborate story about the state of his closet and Talinda’s relief that he’d be out of her hair for a few days.

Mike nodded along, thinking about the kiss on the front porch. It didn’t look like a wife that was ready for her husband to go away. It looked nothing like he imagined his goodbye to Anna looked… perfunctory, the crossing off of a task on his to-do list. He felt a sudden shame come over him as he thought of his wife, but it dissolved as quickly as it came when Chester abandoned his story in favor of singing the 80’s song on the radio. 

The rest of the ride to the airport was the usual mix of poor jokes and satirical singing, Dave harmonizing, and Mike laughing while posting ten second videos of Chester on Instagram. They all seemed to calm down on the flight to Florida - even Chester, who let go of Mike’s hand as soon as they stoped climbing after takeoff.

“You okay?” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow at Chester as he reached under the seat for his backpack. Chester usually clung to him for the duration of the flight, something Mike looked forward to but never admitted. 

With a nod, Chester stuck his hand inside the bag. “Yep. Just looking for something.” He dug around for a minute, his head cocked to the side, before a smile brightened his face. “Here. I brought this,” he said excitedly, holding out his hand. 

A small red plastic box was dropped in Mike’s lap and he started to laugh as soon as he saw what it contained. “Travel Scattergories? C’mon Ches, you know starting this in the air is a bad idea.”

“Scattergories?” Brad said from the seat directly in front of Mike. “You brought Scattergories?” He was instantly involved in the conversation, ready to play the game. It was a favorite of his since he was a kid, a game he or Mike usually won when the band played together.

“ _Travel_ Scattergories,” Chester corrected. He winked at Mike. “See? Delson wants to play.” He smiled slyly at the emcee. “Surely you guys can control yourselves.”

“We’re not supposed to play board games on the plane,” Mike said helplessly as Brad twisted around in his seat. “You know what happened last time,” he whined.

“Mike, you can be such a pain in the ass sometimes,” Brad said, his game face already on. “You’re just scared of my superior vocabulary.”

Mike narrowed his eyes as he swiped the game out of the reach of Brad’s seeking hand. “Superior? Is that why when I ask you to rhyme a lyric for me you can never think of a word?”

“Bourdie? You playing?” Chester asked, ignoring the bickering between Brad and Mike. 

Rob took an earbud out of his ear and looked halfway over his shoulder. “What?” 

“Scattergories. You playing?” Chester asked again, his tone gleeful as Mike sighed and opened the little box. The small travel sized prompt cards spilled onto the tray table and he swiped the first one he saw. “List 4. You have to play, there has to be four of us. There are four tiny pencils and four tiny game boards. Four tiny lists. That means we have to have four people. For list four,” he finished, watching Mike dole out the red items and roll his eyes at Chester’s repeated use of the word ‘four.’ 

Shaking his head, Rob gave in. “I knew I should have sat with Dave this time,” he lamented, looking across the aisle where Joe was leaning back in his seat, a pink sleep mask over his eyes, and Dave was reading a book, his headphones drowning out the airplane noise. “You know how much it sucks to play this game with Mike and Brad.”

“It’s Brad,” Mike said immediately, getting his list ready. “He’s the competitive one.”

“Yeah, just Brad,” Chester said with a snort. “You’re not competitive at all.” His elbow caught Mike’s arm and they smiled at each other.

“You should roll so you don’t have anything to complain about when the letter sucks,” Brad offered to Mike, a smug look on his face. 

Mike picked up the letter die and handed it to Rob. “Here, Bourdie, you do it. That way neither of us can complain.”

“More like _both_ of you will complain,” Chester muttered, getting his pencil ready. 

“H,” Rob said, then tapped the timer on his phone.

Both Mike and Brad scribbled furiously in a race to complete all twelve lines first. They were both finished long before Rob and Chester, and Mike had to keep from stealing glances at the paper that Chester was leaving uncovered. _He’s so trusting._ Mike turned his head to look out the window on the other side of the aisle, averting his eyes from the tempting paper.

When the time was up, they all shared their results. Some were hilarious, some were vetoed by the group. They played several rounds, mostly amicably. Brad and Mike were all tied up and the four of them were in the final list when they got to “things in an amusement park.” 

Mike answered very seriously, “lines.”

Brad scoffed. “Lines? Of what? Coke?”

“No, damnit. As in, lines at the rides,” Mike clarified, a scowl on his face.

“Oh,” Brad said, having the decency to blush as he looked at Rob for his answer. 

Rob just shrugged. “I have lemonade.”

“Legs!” Chester said. 

“Lego Land,” Brad said triumphantly. “Double score. I win!” 

“No!” Mike objected immediately. “LegoLand is one word. Not to mention it said _in_ an amusement park, not _the name of_ an amusement park.”

“Here we go,” Rob said, putting down his game board. “My vote is Lego Land is fine. Not that it matters,” he mumbled under his breath.

Mike looked at Chester, waiting for his vote. He knew Chester would side with him. 

“Sorry, Delson, it’s no good. Mike’s right. Not only is LegoLand one word, it’s its own place. Two to one, doesn’t count.” 

Brad threw his hands up in the air. “You always side with him. I don’t know why I even bother.” He handed his scorecard over the seat without looking. “Fine, you win Mike, thanks to your bestie.”

As he winked at Chester, Mike took the scorecard from Brad’s hand and said, “you mean, thanks to your poor word choice.” 

The only answer was indistinct mumbling from the front row. Chester and Mike looked at each other, suppressing their laughs so as not to irritate Brad further. Chester looked down at the scorecards. They’d played 5 rounds. Rob - 36; Chester - 39; Brad - 52; Mike - 53. “You’re so good at this game,” Chester whispered appreciatively.

“I better be. I write songs for a living,” Mike whispered in return as Chester stowed the game in his backpack. They lapsed into comfortable silence for the rest of the flight, Chester playing a game on his phone and Mike doodling in one of his sketchbooks. It was one he brought out for public moments like this, a sketchbook completely devoid of any drawings of Chester. If one of the guys, or Chester himself, looked his way while he was doodling, all they would see was page after page of squarish faces with oddly shaped teeth and crooked eyes. Other creatures appeared at times, but the little faces were Mike’s go-to doodle when he wasn’t fixated on some aspect or memory of Chester.

Before too much longer, Chester’s hand found his for the descent, and Mike put the sketchbook away in his bag and pushed it under the seat with his foot. He was rubbing soothing circles on the back of Chester’s hand with his thumb when they landed, as the plane bumped down on the runway and Chester squeezed his hand the way he always did. After all these years, Chester was still afraid of takeoff and landing, and he’d never stopped holding on to Mike for reassurance.

Neither of them spoke as they gathered up their things and deplaned, everyone looking forward to a nice dinner and an early evening at the hotel. Mike was already thinking about his shower and turning the air in his hotel room down low before they even arrived at the restaurant. Having a meal all together to discuss their excitement and hopes for the upcoming tour was always fun and fruitful, but what Mike was really looking forward to was having Chester to himself. It felt like forever since they’d been able to really talk, just the two of them.

They all took turns between bites discussing their favorite songs off the new album, the songs they thought would make good acoustic numbers for the LPU, and the various venues they had played at before. There was a good amount of story telling and teasing before dessert even happened, and everyone was in good spirits. Even Brad, who had gotten over losing Scattergories by one point and was ready to challenge Mike to another game. 

“I’m out this time,” Rob said, folding his napkin and setting it to the side as he looked at the group. “You guys have fun. It’s Joe’s turn to deal with the two of you.”

“Me? What did I do wrong? I don’t play Scattergories. I’m just the deejay.” Joe looked at Brad and then Mike, and then all three of them turned to Dave.

Dave looked up from the dessert menu to see the glint in Brad’s eyes as he said, “Scattergories tournament. Tonight, my room.”

“Tonight?” Mike immediately objected. “No, not tonight. We need to go to sleep early. Tomorrow is a big day.” _I’ve been looking forward to spending time with Chester all day. I’m not playing Scattergories tonight!_

Chester was watching Mike from the corner of his eye, noticing that he looked a little bit panicked. Chester bit his tongue and forced himself not to say anything.

“Afraid I’m gonna whoop your ass, Shinoda?” Brad grinned, kicking his chair back away from the table. 

“I already beat you once today, Delson. I’m trying to save you from embarrassing yourself.” Mike met Brad’s eyes with a smirk this time. “Don’t you worry, we’ll play again. Just not tonight. I promised Otis we would Facetime.”

At the mention of Mike’s son, Chester dropped his chin, his gaze hitting his hands. Mike’s reluctance to start a tournament had nothing to do with him and the time alone they’d promised each other that evening. He didn’t know why he’d even entertained that thought when Mike first said he didn’t want to play again tonight.

“That settles it, then,” Dave decided. “We’ll save the tournament for the bus. And you two can argue,” he said, pointing at Brad and Mike, “but you both know I’ll kick both your asses.”

Mike glanced at Chester, taking note of his downturned expression. While Brad bickered with Dave, he reached under the table and slid a hand onto Chester’s knee, squeezing it lightly. “You okay?”

Their eyes met for a moment before Chester looked away. “Just ready to get back. I need to go for a run.” He bounced his legs anxiously a few times under the table. He wasn’t about to admit that he needed to get a run in to relieve the frustration he was feeling.

“Oh. Okay.” Mike pulled his hand back and then fumbled his fingers over his wedding ring, twisting it around as he tried to hide the disappointment on his face. _I need to call home anyway. I promised. And I’ve been better about that, especially when it comes to the kids. It’s fine. He can run while I talk to them. We’ll hang out afterwards._

When Chester didn’t say anything else to him, Mike started talking about a few new lyric ideas he had, throwing his thoughts back into work instead of more complicated thoughts about Chester and home. Home was secondary right now, they were back on the road. From there the talk dissolved into vegetarianism, whether Rob was following all the rules as he ate his chocolate drizzled cheesecake, and why Brad felt the need to be the anti-meat spokesperson for the table. Chester was fidgety and distracted, despite Mike’s attempts to bring him back into the conversation.

The short ride back to the hotel was quieter, and Mike could feel the tension between him and Chester. _He’ll be better after he runs. He always is._

“Hey, Dave? You wanna go for a run when we get to the hotel? I need to get some of this energy out,” Chester said, his face turned out the side window. It was Mike’s turn to hold his tongue as Dave enthusiastically agreed. 

He had he keycard out and ready as they took the elevator up to the top floor of their hotel, exiting first and stalking off toward his room without waiting for the other guys. 

“I’ll be by your room in five, Chester,” he heard Dave say before he disappeared behind his door. Mike kept walking down the hall. He could feel Chester’s eyes on him as he got to his door and slid his keycard. Right as he started to push the door, he felt Chester behind him, his arm brushing against Mike’s back as he passed. 

“Tell the kids Uncle Chester says hello.”

Mike turned and watched as Chester breezed by, his back tingling where his arm had made contact. “I will,” he promised, his heart sinking just a little bit more as he realized Chester really was going to go for a run. It would be an hour or more before he returned. With a heavy sigh, Mike entered his room and started getting ready for bed. 

**********

Mike was asleep long before Chester made it back to his room, his body worn out from the run. As he stripped off his sweaty running clothes, he glanced toward the connecting doors. His was wide open; there was a two-inch crack in Mike’s. He’d flung his open on the way out for his run because 99% of his being told him that Mike would open his door too. After all, they were supposed to be spending the evening together. 

With a tired smile he entered the bathroom, making quick work of starting the shower, then brushing his teeth as he rummaged around in his suitcase for underwear and pajamas. The lukewarm shower was perfect after the run, but Chester didn’t linger. The magnetic pull of the open door to Mike’s room was too strong to spend much time in the shower. 

An image of Mike’s face at dinner as he shot down Brad’s Scattergories tournament, as he mentioned calling home, floated across Chester’s mind. They had already talked about spending some time together on the first night of the tour, and he knew he had been a baby when he’d decided to go for a run just because Mike had changed their plans slightly. It didn’t even make sense to react so strongly, but it was done now. But this point, surely Mike had called home, and they’d stay up talking for a while now that he was fresh and clean and smelling like his favorite lavender body wash. 

Chester sucked in a deep breath as he pulled his pajamas on and flipped the light switch, glancing over his room and his charging cell phone on the night stand. For a moment he considered grabbing it, but decided to just leave it there. He was going to be fully present in the moment with Mike. He’d be able to tell him about the past few months, the twins, how crazy Sam had been acting since the girls turned two, and all the other crazy shit in his head. Mike was the only person who ever listened to it all, and never judged him. Mike was the only one one he could talk with complete freedom. There was always a fear that one day he’d tell Talinda something that would be too much. With Mike… Chester knew with every fiber of his being that Mike would never leave. It would never be too much for him to handle, or to find the right words, or to offer the right amount of comfort.

Mike. Chester had missed being on tour with him more than he’d been able to admit to Talinda, but he felt like she already knew. She’d sent him off with kisses and blessings and promises to text him pictures of the twins every day. Talinda turned him over to Mike with a smile and a promise. 

Chester pushed open Mike’s door, ready to climb in bed for a long chat, but he stopped short, his eyes resting on Mike’s sleeping form stretched across the bed. He looked as though he hadn’t meant to fall asleep, his phone laying on his chest and his glasses still on. 

Chester’s heart skipped a beat as he drew nearer the bed and gazed down at his best friend. It was clear there would be no conversation tonight. He picked Mike’s phone up, checking to see that the ringer was off, and placed it face down on the bedside table. It was all he could do not to brush the stray lock of black hair from Mike’s forehead as he carefully removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them next to the phone. He watched the steady rise and fall of Mike’s chest for a moment, let the sound of his peaceful breathing wash over him. They could talk in the morning. Everything Chester had to say could wait. Right now, his only desire was to get in bed beside Mike.

He lifted the blanket and climbed in, reaching over to place his own glasses on the table and switch off the lamp. As he lay there, thinking about moving closer, moving to hook his arms over Mike’s waist, he felt the bed shift, and then Mike was just inches away.

“Mike?” he asked lowly, thinking he’d woken him up.

There was no response, and Chester’s hand crept slowly across the bed until it found Mike’s forearm. He ran his fingertips over it gently, savoring the warmth of Mike’s skin before he boldly scooted closer, their faces close, but keeping his head on his own pillow. He could feel Mike’s gentle breaths on his skin, lulling him to sleep. Even as he try to lay there and think, his brain did what it always did with Mike around - calmed down enough for him to fall asleep. 

When he’d moved closer to Mike, Chester hadn’t been actively trying to start anything, but he woke hours later to Mike’s arm around his waist, their bodies closer than they’d been when he lay down earlier. It was too comfortable, too familiar, and Chester was about to turn over when Mike mumbled out, “don’t stop.”

Mike’s sleep talking had probably been the reason he woke in the first place, and Chester’s ears were suddenly on alert, a guilty feeling sliding over him. Mike wasn’t sleeping well because he’d gone for a run instead of talking the way they’d promised. Chester moved a hand from the sheets to Mike’s arm, drifting his fingers from shoulder to elbow and back, waiting to see if Mike would say anything more. He knew he should move before something else happened between them, but it had been so long. He didn’t want to admit how much he thought about Mike’s sleepy kisses. He didn’t want to admit how much he wished that Mike would kiss him again.

Mike was restless, his face twisting into, then out of the pillow. He mumbled a few more word that Chester couldn’t understand, but he did catch the word ‘run’ and ‘pie’, and from what he could piece together, Mike was saying something about wanting pie instead of running. Chester suppressed a giggle, biting down on his lip as he continued to soothe his hand over Mike’s arm, trying to lull him back into a more restful sleep.

Chester was drifting back to sleep again when he distinctly heard Mike say his name. Barely aware of what he was doing, Chester answered in a drowsy voice, “what?”

“Ches… it’s you?”

Chester’s hand had fallen from Mike’s arm down his side and was nestled between the sheet and warm skin. He pushed his fingers closer to Mike and whispered, “yeah, I’m here.” 

Mike’s arm tightened for a moment, pulling Chester closer, but Chester refused to open his eyes. He allowed his legs to tangle with Mike’s as their bodies aligned, his head tucked up under Mike’s chin, sharing warmth between them. In his half asleep state, Chester pressed a quick kiss to Mike’s neck and whispered again, “I’m here.”

Without warning, Mike whispered, “I love you.”

The air left Chester’s lungs and he couldn’t breathe back in. He was frozen. “What’s that?” There was no way Mike was talking to him. He was dreaming, about Anna, about his kids, about any number of people or items he might say that to. He could be proclaiming his love to pie for all Chester knew.

“Ches. Chester. I love you,” he repeated, and Chester still couldn’t breathe. He opened his eyes and was met with the solidness of Mike’s bare chest, the comfort of Mike’s arm around his waist, the heat of Mike’s body against him. There was no mistaking what he’d heard. Mike was dreaming about him, and he’d said ‘I love you’ as clearly as if he’d been awake.

His mind raced around for a moment, circling through one thought after another. Was there any explanation for Mike Shinoda’s night time confession? History had proven that he wouldn’t remember anything he said or did the next morning, so why did it matter what he said? Chester squeezed his eyes closed again and forced himself to breathe. In. Out. Deeply. Slowly. He ordered himself to calm his suddenly alert nerves. Mike was asleep. It didn’t mean anything.

If Mike was asleep, he could test out those words, say them in response. He wouldn’t remember the next day. There was nothing to keep Chester from saying them back, just the fear that Mike’s subconscious might take them in, but he could deal with that later. Mike wouldn’t remember. He never did. Chester battled with himself in the darkness for what felt like hours before he mustered the nerve to lean his head back just a little.

It was too dark to see Mike’s face, but Chester had a clear picture in his mind. His dark eyes that always looked ringed with eyeliner, the thick black lashes all women envied that framed them. He could see Mike’s lips, those pouty, kissable lips that he wanted more of all the time now. He could imagine the way they would curve up, the way his beautiful eyes would crinkle in the corners when Chester said ‘I love you, too.’ In another life, those lips, those eyes, that smile would belong to him. 

Chester sighed lightly, his whisper barely audible in the silence of the hotel room. “I love you, too.” He held his breath again, waiting, before he snuggled his face to Mike’s chest and finished, “always.”

Whether Mike’s subconscious registered the confession or not, Chester felt the arm holding him close relax, and the restlessness faded into stillness. Chester felt the pinch at his heart as yet another secret between them was lined up along side the others for his safekeeping. It would have to do until he could figure it all out. It was becoming increasingly clear that he’d have to tell Mike someday. It would be hard to act like he’d never heard those words fall from Mike’s lips. There was going to come a day that Chester would have to stay in his own bed, that he would be the one trapped in restless sleep and his own nightmares. He wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to give this comfort up forever, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep a secret this big from Mike.

Chester felt Mike’s last sigh more than he heard it. “Ches…”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’m here… promise.” He pressed a last kiss to Mike’s chest, and lay still, allowing sleep to come claim him in the safety of Mike’s embrace.


	32. Part Four: THP -- The Breaking Point

**January 18, 2015**

Chester stopped at half court, tucking the ball under his right arm while unscrewing the lid to his water with the other hand. He heard Dave yell something in his direction, but he didn’t know what the words were. He couldn’t think. He needed a moment to himself.

Mike’s sweaty body had brushed against him just moments ago, setting of a chain of reactions that had left Chester an emotional, panting, half-hard mess. It was getting harder and harder to not pull Mike into a quiet room somewhere and just tell him. Tell him all of the things he’d told Talinda, the nighttime confessions, the kisses, the ‘I love yous.’ He figured if Mike ever got ready to confront those subconscious feelings head on, he first person he’d let know would be Chester. Mike would never go to Anna with those thoughts. Mike wasn’t even consciously owning them. 

He sighed in frustration. The last five months had been a balancing act of emotions, small moments that slowly added up to the breaking point Chester found himself at now. As he guzzled down half the bottle of water, he watched Mike from the corner of his eyes. He could see the darker patch of sweat on his charcoal gray shirt, on his chest and under his arms, and he could see his knees and calves beneath his basketball shorts, parts of his body that rarely came out in public. He felt his gaze being pulled to Mike’s backwards hat, and he let his mind flip through images from the past few months, both on tour and at home.

_Mike watching him foam roll on the floor of the dressing room._

_Mike passing him soy sauce at a restaurant and their fingertips brushing against each other._

_Mike harmonizing Final Masquerade on the fly at a meet and greet, the way their eyes locked when they met across Brad’s guitar._

_Mike laying next to him in a hotel bed, night after night, their fingers linked together, Mike’s breaths falling on his face._

_Mike in the mountains at Christmas when they’d taken the families skiing… Mike with pure white snow falling on his dark hair._

_Mike’s brilliant smile in the home studio. In the car. In the airplane. In the tour bus._

_Always, the way Mike looked at him._

After he’d cowardly confessed his love for Mike while the emcee was sleeping, life had continued. They’d finished up the Carnivores tour, toured Europe, gone home for the holidays, and here they were. Heading out on the North American tour for the latest album, and Chester was feeling the weight of all the secrets between them. Not just the secrets they knowingly shared, but all the things he was keeping from Mike. Confiding in Talinda had helped a little, but the closeness, the proximity of Mike, day in and day out for the next several months seemed daunting. The tour was going to be hard. Every day things got harder. Every day, Chester got a little bit closer to just putting an end to their sleeping arrangement and drawing a clearer line, but one look at Mike had him falling back on his resolve. 

Just like now. He’d felt Mike’s hot, sweaty body next to his and he’d needed to step away, but nothing that came to his mind helped the way he was feeling. Instead of calming his racing heart, his boiling blood, the thoughts ignited him. All the thoughts that came to him only made him desire more closeness, more attention, more time from Mike. Mike, who was tossing up shots from the free throw line with ease, despite the fact that they hardly ever played basketball anymore. 

Chester screwed the lid on his water and set it down, dribbling the ball back to the three point line and watching the emcee. It was almost as though Mike were trying to ignore him, he was so concentrated on what was happening on the court.

But Mike wasn’t particularly interested in basketball. When Chester had settled on his new plan to work out every day before the shows, he reluctantly decided he should get involved, too, despite his general apprehension. Three kids and time in the studio wasn’t helping his physique, and he was more than a little self conscious about his lack of definition, especially compared to Chester. Each night when Chester came to bed, covered head to toe in his fuzzy pajamas of choice, Mike hesitated to take off his own shirt. Deep down, he knew his body was fine, but he wasn’t cut like Chester. He couldn’t count his abs in the mirror, and next to the vocalist he looked soft. A teddy bear next to Adonis. 

Working up a sweat before sound check seemed like a good idea, as far as Chester was concerned. Mike was already wondering if he’d be able to keep up for the duration of the North American tour. Chester was a machine. He could work out and still give a hell of a performance. Mike felt like he wanted a nap after working out, and before the show. He didn’t want to admit he couldn’t keep up, that he might have to find a way to back out every now and then. He didn’t want to give up that extra bit of time with Chester. 

He felt Chester behind him as he took another shot, but he didn’t glance back. Too much was going on for him to put all his focus and energy on Chester at the moment. The time for that would come later. There would be sound check, and the meet and greet, the pre-show huddle and the performance, all before they ever got to showers and snacks and bed. Some of the guys from their opening acts were playing today as well, and Mike participated with everyone, shooting layups, talking shit, and screwing around, coming across Chester on occasion and throwing him a wink and a brief smile.

Standing back, waiting for his next shot, Mike caught Chester out of the corner of his eye, impatient and heading for another net to continue his solitary game. Things started to move in slow motion as soon as he heard the unmistakeable sound of Chester’s body hitting the gym floor, as all eyes turned toward the vocalist and someone called out, “shit, man, are you okay?”

All the activity in the gym around Mike seemed to disappear as he turned and his focus narrowed to Chester on the floor. Seeing him lying there when seconds ago he was up and moving around was such a shock that Mike couldn’t move. His brain couldn’t process what was happening as Chester lay on the ground, clearly in agony. Dave was kneeling beside him, asking questions that Mike couldn’t hear. He was still frozen, useless in what was quickly shaping up to be a time of crisis.

“Can you move it?” Dave asked, afraid to reach out and touch Chester anywhere.

“Fuck, no, I can’t!” Chester’s breaths were labored, the pain radiating up from his ankle. He reached down as though he were going to touch his leg and then twisted around from the pain.

When Chester failed to look for him, didn’t try to catch his eyes to say it was okay the way he usually did when he hurt himself, something in Mike suddenly realized the seriousness of what was happening. Without saying anything, he left to go find help. Someone. Anyone.

They had medical on site, and Mike went charging into the room, asking for help while fumbling with his phone, trying to text Jim. In a flurry of activity, there was medical staff at his side and he was leading them back to the gym, where the basketball game had been abandoned and all the guys were standing in the wings, talking in hushed voices. 

Mike was right back at Dave’s side as soon as the doctor knelt by Chester’s leg.

“What the fuck happened?” he hissed, his eyes wide with concern. Chester hurting himself was nothing new, but it was a still shock every time. 

“He said he slipped on a water bottle,” Dave said quietly, turning away from where Chester was on the floor. “I think it’s bad.”

“Of course it’s bad. He never does anything halfway.” Mike watched as Chester was asked to point his toe, as he curled in on himself in pain. “It’s broken. He broke his ankle. It has to be, there’s no way he’s in that much pain from a sprain.” His heart was racing with anxiety as he watched. _If it’s broken, that’s it. There’s no way we can finish this part of the tour. It won’t be like when he broke his wrist, this is bigger. We’ll go home and then what? Painkillers and seclusion, and we all know where that will end up._

Mike’s worried gaze stayed on Chester as he was helped into a wheelchair, and as he and Dave took a step back, Chester finally caught his eyes. “I’ll be okay,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes flipping between Mike and Dave quickly before he grimaced from the pain again. 

“Wait,” Mike said, stepping forward as Chester passed him. “I’ll go with you.” His heart was beating erratically and he felt the anxiety and the panic threatening to take over. _I can’t let him go alone. He needs me._ The impact of that thought gave Mike pause - he stopped in his tracks as he looked at his friend, who was ready to protest. 

“No, stay here and get ready for tonight. Sound check my monitor for me.” Chester waved Mike off with a few flips of his hand, and then he was out the door with Jim giving orders through his phone while walking along at Chester’s side, leaving everyone behind.

Mike watched as Chester disappeared, not moving from the spot he’d halted when his heart had caught up with the situation. _Not going, him not wanting me there, it’s the worst. Now all I’ll do is worry, the whole time. What’s happening to him. How he’s feeling, physically and emotionally. I can’t do anything from here. I can’t do anything at all. And even if I could, he told me no. No, stay here._ He felt his heart aching and his head pounding, his breathing shallow as the anxiety plunged full speed ahead. 

Without a word, Mike wandered back to the dressing room, his sweaty shirt now feeling clammy against his skin. He wiped over his face with a towel and dropped onto the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. _Sound check. How am I supposed to do that, when Chester isn’t here? I’ve never done a Linkin Park sound check without him. He’s optimistic the show is happening, but if he broke his ankle… I don’t think it will happen. Fuck. I wasn’t watching him close enough. I was in my own world, and he got hurt. It’s my fault._

Dave had followed him backstage, his thoughts running between Chester’s ankle, the evening’s performance that was hanging in the balance, and Mike’s curious reaction to the whole ordeal. Usually he was more keyed up when Chester hurt himself. This time, he just looked defeated. He grabbed a granola bar from the basket on the table and sat down in a chair opposite Mike. For a few minutes the only sound was the crinkle of the wrapper as he opened and ate the granola bar.

Mike could hear Dave in the room but it felt like too much effort to acknowledge him. It was only a matter of time before Brad would show up, demanding to know what happened, and Mike would have to tell the whole story from the start. His lack of attentiveness and Chester showing out. _He acts like I’m overreacting when I worry about Chester, but then when something goes wrong, it’s my fault. He’s not wrong. It is my fault. I wasn’t watching him. I wasn’t interacting, I was far away in my own head and now… now this whole tour is fucked._

“Mike?” Dave asked, keeping his voice level. “You okay?”

 _No. I’m not okay. I don’t want to talk about it, don’t want to cancel this, don’t want to go home._ “Yeah,” he lied without opening his eyes. “Thinking about sound check. Chester seems to think he’s coming back. I don’t know. It looked pretty bad. I hate cancelling shows.”

“We _all_ hate cancelling shows,” Dave said, wadding up his wrapper and tossing it toward the trash can. He was about to say something else, something reassuring, when Brad burst into the dressing room.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice elevated, his eyes immediately on Mike. “You’re supposed to watch him, you know.” With hands on his hips, he regarded the emcee, who cracked his eyes open and regarded the guitarist with a shrug.

“I _was_. I can’t control him,” Mike said bitterly. “You know how clumsy he is… it all happened so fast, there was no way to stop it.” He shut his eyes again. “He slipped on a water bottle. I think he broke his ankle, but we don’t know anything yet. They took him out in a wheelchair.”

“Fuck,” Brad spit. “A wheelchair? That’s not good.” He started pacing the room, waiting for Mike to go on. 

“We’re going ahead with sound check,” Dave intervened before Brad could say anything else. “Chester is optimistic he’ll be back.”

The change in Brad’s demeanor was visible and the situation seemed to de-escalate with Dave’s words. His shoulder relaxed and the frantic look on his face calmed as he considered Dave’s words. “Oh. Then it must not be that bad. That’s good. I hate cancelling shows.”

Dave nodded. “That’s what we were just talking about before you came in.” He glanced at Mike, who was not offering any additional information. “Maybe you can go find Bourdie and Joe, fill them in. We need to get showers, and there’s some time still before sound check. How about we meet back up here in an hour? Maybe we’ll hear something from Chester by then.” He stood up and held a hand out to Mike. “Come on, man, let’s go clean up.”

Shaking his head, Mike said, “go without me. I’ll get up in a minute. I just, I need a second.” He heard the hesitation from both men before they left the dressing room, leaving Mike alone on the couch. 

He stayed behind another ten minutes or so, shuffling through scenarios in his head, and the appropriate responses to each. Mike knew the way Chester would react to the outcome of going to the hospital would depend on how _he_ reacted to the outcome. If Mike got upset, or said the wrong thing, Chester would take it a thousand times harder. Even if he managed to say the right thing, his body language might say something else. He’d have to be careful.

He practiced the words out loud. “It will be fine, Ches… Don’t worry about the show, Ches, we’ll work around you… No, it’s okay that we have to cancel the rest of the tour, everyone will understand. We want you to get better.” He swallowed hard after the last one. It didn’t sound right. He tried again. “I know you’re disappointed, but it’s the right thing. Everyone understands. We want you to get better.” 

With a sigh, Mike stood up. Sitting and practicing his hypothetical responses to the unknown potential outcomes of the fall wasn’t settling his stomach. Dave was right, a shower would help, with the added bonus of passing time until he heard from Chester. 

An hour later, it was just him with Dave and Jim in the dressing room, waiting. Mike had already given Jim a piece of his mind for not going with Chester to the hospital, and his side of the confrontation was so spiteful that Dave had stepped in, putting Mike in his place. The worry he was feeling was magnified now that he knew one of the other staff was helping Chester make the decisions. It wasn’t Jim, who he trusted. It wasn’t himself, who Chester had denied. He knew the anger was really just fear, but he couldn’t control himself. Now he sat in the corner of the couch, seething as they waited silently for the phone call. All Mike wanted was to hear Chester’s voice, to hear him say, ‘it’s gonna be okay.’

When the call came, the ringer coming to life harshly, caused all three men to jump in their seats.

“Hey, Chester,” Jim said as he placed the call on speaker. Dave perked up from his seat in on the chair opposite Mike, but Mike didn’t move. His body language already screamed worst case scenario. He wasn’t ready to deal with this; after all the waiting, knowing for sure what they were dealing with suddenly seemed scarier. He felt his anger finally subside into fear and he caught his breath. He needed to apologize for not being there with Chester, even though the vocalist was the one who had pushed him away. 

“Hey you guys.” Chester’s voice came through the speaker, and Jim smiled encouragingly at Mike, a smile that meant, ‘he doesn’t sound too bad.’

“I’m really, really s-” Mike started, but Chester cut him off.

“I have a broken ankle.” His tone was anxious as he talked over Mike, spitting the words out quickly.

There it was, the verdict Mike had been dreading. He stuttered as he tried to comprehend the news. “It’s, it’s your ankle?”

There was a short pause, then, “yeah.” 

The lightness in Chester’s voice that he’d put on for the greeting was gone. Mike could hear the undertones of fear and frustration now. He clenched his jaw, feeling the same emotions crashing through him. _What now? Chester, his leg, the tour, what will happen? How bad is it?_ “So…”

“Yeah. Basically, if the bone shifts, even a little bit, I’m gonna have to have surgery, and have plates put in, and screws.” All of this information delivered flatly, as though he were still in denial.

“Are you one hundred percent sure you want to give tonight a go?” Dave asked, his calm voice cutting through the tension. 

They all heard Chester’s sigh. “I have no idea what I’m gonna do. Honestly.”

Mike could swear he could hear the roughness of tears in Chester’s voice. From pain, from frustration, from anger, he didn’t know. “Yeah.”

“The only way to know is I get there and try.” 

It was the standard Chester way of dealing with things. Just go with it and see what happened. Mike glanced at both Jim and Dave, and stood up from the couch, determined. It was easier to have a plan now that he knew what he was dealing with. “Okay. Okay, Ches, we’re going to get things set up for when you get back. We’ll do it, even if you need a chair on stage. We’ll make it happen.”

“Thanks, Mike.” The weight had been lifted from Chester’s voice and it was evident to all three men. Mike was going to take care of everything. As an afterthought, Chester added, “and Jim, and Dave.”

“We’ll get it all squared away,” Jim assured the vocalist as he disconnected the call. Before he could give Mike instructions, the emcee was gone, down the hall toward their crew, a plan and a list forming in his head. “Let’s go see what Mike has in mind,” he said to Dave, who nodded as they stepped into the hallway to follow Mike. 

By the time Chester made it back to the arena, Mike had gone through the set, thought his way through each transition, discussed things with the crew and the band, before they all completed the sound check. He’d even thought to have Jim try to locate a scooter, knowing that singing on crutches and not being mobile would drive Chester crazy. He had been through every aspect of the evening and he felt prepared, until Chester came in to the dressing room.

The vocalist’s ankle was simply wrapped in an ace bandage and he was on crutches. Mike felt a pang in his heart at the way Chester was determined to stay upbeat around the guys, and he stayed out of the lighthearted banter. Nothing about the situation was lighthearted in Mike’s opinion, though he understood where the guys were coming from with their silly jokes. It was all just deflection from the reality of the situation. It wasn’t until Joe and Rob left the dressing room that Mike turned toward Chester, his throat tight with emotion.

“Ches, I was so worried about you,” he started, frowning as Chester waved off his concern with one hand. “No, stop. Why didn’t you let me go with you?” He reached for the hand Chester was flipping through the air and took it, rubbing circles in Chester’s palm with his thumb the way he always did when he was trying to soothe one or both their nerves.

Chester caught his breath and looked at Mike, his bravado dissolving into something else, something that looked like a mixture of pain and self-loathing. “I didn’t want to take you away from rehearsal. There wasn’t anything you could do, you know? It’s broken. I knew it was broken. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Mike said firmly, holding Chester’s gaze. “And I wanted to be there for you. I hate thinking about you being in pain, being alone…” He kept his hold on Chester’s hand, refusing to let him go. 

“You can’t change it,” Chester said quietly, leaning on his crutches and reaching a finger to tap on Mike’s chest. “It’s done and now we’ve got to figure out what happens next. I’m sorry I’m screwing things up again, making us change things and-”

“Stop.” Mike’s voice was soft, pleading. “Stop, you know we don’t care about that. We just want you to be okay. I need you to be okay.” He stopped suddenly, and looked away from Chester, whose eyes were so dark they were almost black. “We need you,” he amended, slowly placing Chester’s hand back on the handle of his crutches. 

They were silent for a moment, thoughts spinning through both of their heads before Chester finally said, “I’ve got to sit down. And then I want you to do something for me.” He hobbled to the couch and dropped onto it, propping his wrapped foot on the table with a wince.

“What’s that? You need something to eat? Water?” Mike was hovering and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. Having Chester back where he could help was what they both needed. 

“I want black crutches,” Chester said simply, eyeing the silver aluminum crutches he’d just discarded at his side. “These are _not_ very bad ass.” 

“Oh.” Of all the things Mike had been prepared for, black crutches was not one of them. He sat on the edge of the coffee table next to Chester’s foot, stumped. 

“It’s not critical,” Chester assured him, leaning back into the couch. “Tell me what the plan is for tonight. I know you’ve got it all figured out by now.” He smiled fondly at Mike before his eyebrows drew together in pain again.

Mike bit his lip nervously. “Are you sure you want to try? You look like you’d rather be home in bed.”

“Home?” Chester looked away for a moment before he scrubbed one hand over his short hair. “No, I don’t want to go home. I want to do this tour. I’m gonna do this show, and then I’ll go to bed. You’ll probably have to help me, though.” Their eyes met again and Mike simply nodded, speechless. 

Brad found them that way, looking at each other silently. “What’s up, Chester? We doing this thing tonight?” he asked, ending the moment between the two frontmen.

“Yeah, we’re on for tonight, we’ll see how it goes,” Chester said, his eyes following Mike as he stood up, grabbing the crutches.

“I’ll be back,” was all Mike said as he walked out, leaving Chester and Brad in the dressing room alone.

 _Black. He wants black crutches, so he’ll get black crutches. I know I’ve got spray paint somewhere. If not, someone can go buy me a can. Chester’s getting these crutches, tonight. He’ll need help after the show, he’ll need help showering, what am I supposed to do about that? And I didn’t even ask about meds. Is he on anything now?_ Mike’s thoughts were shooting through his brain rapid fire as he flagged down Jim and demanded spray paint.

 _I can’t think about after right now. All I can think about is the show. I’ll deal with the rest later. Gotta get through the show._ Someone placed a can of black spray paint in his hand and led him to a place that he could work, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking about showers, and bed, and Chester, thoughts that were all jumbled up and both confusing and exhilarating. 

Within a half hour he was putting the finishing touches on his spray paint job, getting ready to head back to Chester, his head calmer. They’d get through the show and then re-evaluate how things would be for the rest of the night, then the rest of the tour. _One thing at a time, Shinoda. Keep it simple. It’s going to be fine._

He felt his heart lift when he held the black crutches out for Chester to take, smiling at the admiration and thankfulness he saw shining in the vocalist’s eyes. _It’s going to be fine._


	33. Part Four: THP -- Boundaries

**January 21, 2015**

Everything was not fine.

Mike was sitting in the waiting room, across from Talinda, jiggling his foot restlessly. He’d caught her looking at him twice, and this time when their eyes met, he felt his cheeks color pink with embarrassed warmth.

“Why don’t you walk around a bit, Mike?” she said quietly, glancing around the empty waiting area on the sixth floor of the surgical wing before turning her attention back to the magazine she was flipping through. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, standing up to walk toward the wall of windows on the far side of the room. He paced for a few minutes before he stopped and looked out over the city, a thin veil of smog hanging about the tops of the buildings. Anxiety had been gripping his heart since they’d arrived at the hospital that morning for Chester’s ankle surgery. He’d been the one to drive them all to the hospital, Talinda deciding yesterday that she’d be too nervous to drive. Mike hadn’t thought twice when asked to come along about being at the hospital while Chester had the surgery, but now that he was here, he couldn’t shake the sense of dread. 

Even though it was a fairly routine procedure, the placing of plates and screws in Chester’s leg, Mike knew he wouldn’t relax until the nurse came to tell them that the vocalist was out of anesthesia. Something about Chester being put under made Mike’s heart beat faster and his palms sweat. Logically he knew that complications due to general anesthesia were statistically unlikely, but Chester always seemed to be the exception to the rules. Every rule. 

He rested his forearm against the glass window and then dropped his forehead to his arm, looking down six stories to the ground below. They’d been back in LA less than forty-eight hours, and the unfortunate reality of canceling the rest of the North American tour hadn’t really sunk in for any of them yet. Maybe it had for Chester, who was already saying troubling things about being broken, and being home and once again the cause for canceling performances. He’d started in the very night he broke his ankle, berating himself in the bathroom of the hotel room as he and Mike tried to figure out how to get him showered before bed.

_”I’m such an idiot, Mike. I can’t believe I didn’t see that bottle.” He held onto Mike, one arm slung over his shoulders in an attempt to steady himself._

_“It was an accident, Chester. We can’t do anything about it now. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but going back to LA and getting this set is important. You have to get your ankle repaired or we won’t be missing just this one part of the tour. We’ll be finished.” Mike stopped when they got into the bathroom and looked at Chester meaningfully. “Better to miss a little than be finished forever, don’t you think?”_

_Chester dropped his head and looked down at his bandaged foot. “Doesn’t change the fact that if I wasn’t so clumsy we wouldn’t even be in this position.”_

_“Ches… stop it. I know what you’re doing. Don’t let your head tell you this is your fault. It was an accident. Here, can you sit up on the counter?” Mike backed Chester up to the granite in the bathroom and helped him sit down, both legs dangling over the side. They looked at each other for a moment before Chester looked back at the floor as though he couldn’t bear to hold the emcee’s gaze for very long._

_With one hand, Mike reached out to tilt Chester’s chin up, taking in the disappointment clear in his sad expression. “C’mon, Ches, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you home and fixed up, and things will be fine.” His thumb stroked lightly over Chester’s cheek for a moment and he watched the vocalist’s eyes close, then slow tears drip from under his lashes._

_Mike watched one slide toward his thumb, and he caught it, wiping it gently away, then catching another before he raised his other hand to wipe the tears on his other cheek away. “Are you hurting?” Mike asked softly, his body hovering between Chester’s knees as the vocalist sat on the counter._

_Chester shook his head no, then quickly changed his mind and groaned out, “yes.”_

_“Let’s get you cleaned up and you can have a pain pill, okay? I don’t want to give it to you now, you won’t be able to stand up in the shower.” Mike wiped another tear away before he said, “are you going to be able to do this?” Chester nodded his head, and Mike took a step back, looking down at the bandages. “They told me I can unwrap this for you to shower, but you can’t put any weight on it. So, um, I guess we’ll have to do this together.”_

_Mike could feel his cheeks flushing at the idea of being naked in the shower with Chester. There really wasn’t any other way to get them both clean, and if he was going to have to be in the shower with Chester, he might as well take care of his business too. “That okay?” He glanced toward the large walk in shower, then back at Chester, who had opened his eyes and was staring at Mike._

Mike sighed, his breath fogging up the window in front of his face. Chester had been in so much pain by the time they finished in the shower two nights ago, there had been nothing sexy about it. Not that he’d wanted it to be that way. It had been all business, and quick business at that, Chester holding on to Mike to keep the weight off his ankle while hastily running a washcloth over his skin. He closed his eyes and thought about what their wives might think of the whole shower situation. Not that all the guys had never shared shower space back in the early days, the tour bus days when the venue’s locker room showers seemed like a luxury. But it had been years since they’d all been in a shower together, and Chester and Mike showering in Mike’s hotel room together was a far cry from the six of them taking care of business years ago. 

He reached up and touched the condensation as it dissipated, revealing the buildings outside once again. _I wonder how much longer we have to wait. I wonder how long it will take him to wake up. Surely they’re finished with the surgery by now._

Pushing back from the window, he headed back over to where Talinda was sitting. She’d set the magazine aside and was staring across the waiting room, but Mike couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. She turned her head toward Mike as he sat down beside her and he saw her thumb twisting her wedding ring back and forth on her finger. _Weird. I do that when I’m worrying too. One of my nervous habits._

“They should be coming to talk to us soon,” Talinda said absently. “I wish they would hurry. I’ll feel so much better when I know he’s awake.”

Mike reached over and took her hand the way he took Chester’s to calm him, gently pressing his thumb along the lines of her palm. “Me too. Once he wakes up, it’s smooth sailing. Well, smoother,” he corrected, thinking about the long recovery ahead.

As if Talinda could read his thoughts, she looked down at their hands and murmured, “sure. Smooth sailing. My hyperactive husband and three kids underfoot. You know what a mess he’s going to be, Mike, not able to do things on his own, all the worrying he’ll be doing while he’s sitting at home… he’s going to need you, you know.”

“Me?” Mike pressed his free hand to his chest, his long fingers spread wide. “You know how well that will go, Tal. Anna needs me at home, too. Of course, you know I’ll be over as much as I can… or you want me to be,” he corrected. He didn’t want to overstep the invisible boundaries, if there even were any these days.

“You know you’re always welcome, Mike.” Talinda looked up and their eyes held just long enough for Mike to feel uncomfortable. “He’ll want you to be around. He’ll need you to take his mind off things.” 

Mike was about to respond when a female voice interrupted them. “Mrs. Bennington?”

“Yes?” Talinda dropped Mike’s hand and stood up. “I’m Talinda Bennington.”

The nurse in purple scrubs nodded and glanced at Mike, then bounced her gaze back to Talinda. “Your husband has been moved to a private room. He’s stable and resting now. The doctor will come visit with you shortly, and then you’ll be able to go back and be with him.” 

With a sigh of relief, Talinda smiled gratefully. “Thank you for letting us know.” She looked at Mike, who had also risen from his seat to stand next to her. “Oh, Mike, it’s good news. I mean, of course it is, but I was so worried!” She threw her arms around his neck for a quick hug, then looked back at the nurse. “It will be soon, right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Bennington, he should be on his way out any minute now.”

Mike excused himself and walked back to the wall of windows. It was true, he felt better knowing Chester was out of surgery, but he knew his stomach wouldn’t settle until he’d laid eyes on the vocalist himself. Until he’d seen him, heard his voice, touched his warm skin. Then he’d know that Chester was fine. Warmth was life, and Mike knew what Chester’s warm skin felt like next to his.

_He turned his head away from Chester, looking toward the bathroom sink as the other man clutched at his back. The scent of Chester’s lavender body wash hit him instantly and he frantically pulled up images in his mind to stop the tingles of arousal he was feeling in his stomach. He started trying to divide six digit decimals into four digit numbers to occupy his brain, but he still felt Chester’s warm, slippery skin against his side and under the arm he’d looped around Chester’s back. The shower couldn’t get over with fast enough._

Minutes passed before the doctor came out and spoke to Talinda, Mike lost in thoughts about the shared shower before she called his name again, and he followed her as they were lead to Chester’s room. He was the one who opened the door and stepped inside first, his heart hammering in his chest as he eyes fell on his best friend. Chester looked so small there on the hospital bed, covered to his chin with the thin blanket except for his leg, which was sticking out of the blanket and elevated. Mike wanted to rush to his side but he held back, letting Talinda sit next to her husband first as he stood at the foot of the bed, biting his bottom lip nervously. Even if Chester had roused from the anesthesia enough to be released to a room, he still looked completely knocked out. 

Mike watched Talinda fumble underneath the blanket and sheet for Chester’s right hand, and he turned his gaze to the monitors behind the bed. He didn’t know much about what the screens were showing, but the steadiness of Chester’s heartbeat was enough, and he tossed up a silent thank you to whatever deity had watched over Chester’s surgery. It was unlikely he’d feel like it when he really woke up, but Mike knew he was going to be okay.

“Babe?” Talinda called softly, smoothing her free hand over Chester’s forehead. “Chester?” 

Chester turned his face toward his wife with a “mmmm?” 

Mike rested his hands on the end of the bed and watched Chester’s forehead crinkle in confusion.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re finished with the surgery. Everything went fine,” Talinda said in a soothing voice. “The doctor said your ankle will be good as new when you heal.” She sat back, still holding Chester’s hand under the blanket.

With what appeared to be a great effort, Chester cracked his eyes open for an unfocused moment before they closed again and he mumbled, “hurts.”

“I know, babe. I know,” Talinda said softly. “They’ll give us some painkillers for that. It will get better.”

Mike swallowed slowly, letting Talinda’s words sink in. _Painkillers. We have to be so careful with those. And he’s already on edge from cancelling the tour. I fuckin’ hate narcotics, it’s always a gamble. It could go so wrong. And I won’t be there. I won’t be there to watch him._ But ultimately, it wasn’t Mike’s responsibility. They were home, they weren’t on tour. Keeping an eye on Chester and monitoring his mental state, that was for Talinda when they were home. 

Still, he felt unsettled knowing he wouldn’t be around to see the subtle shifts that indicated trouble ahead. It was a different anxiety when they were home, where he wasn’t worried about who they were around and what other bands drank, or did drugs, or had the potential to score drugs. They were at home, and a bottle of Vicodin could potentially set them down a dark path. They were at home, which meant Mike and Chester were separated by miles and families. 

Home wasn’t necessarily the safest place for either of them anymore. Things were so different out on the road, together. It was the road that felt like home now, and home felt foreign. Mike’s gaze dropped down to Chester’s elevated leg as he contemplated home. Maybe the problem was that home felt an awful lot like Chester, and that was a dangerous thing to realize. _I shouldn’t even be here. I’m his best friend, and so are the other guys. But they’re at home and I’m here, like this is where I belong… but I should be at home. My home. My home without Chester, because Chester isn’t home. Home is Anna, home is Josie and Otis and Abi._

Then he heard Chester’s voice, thick and drowsy with waning anesthesia, call “Mike?” and all thoughts of home were gone as he stepped forward.

“I’m here,” Mike said clearly, looking across the bed at Talinda as Chester struggled to move his left arm under the blanket. Mike slid his hand under the blanket and took Chester’s flipped over hand, lightly rubbing circles in his palm with his thumb. “Right here, Ches. You’re finished, like Tal said. Everything’s going to be fine.” 

Furrows of frustration dug between Chester’s eyebrows. “Hurts,” he said again, and Mike felt his eyebrows crinkle the same way as he watched Chester’s face.

He kept his thumb moving in circles and gently answered, “I know. It will get better though. You just need to rest now, Ches.” Mike could feel the worry still etched into his face as he looked down at Chester. Rubbing his palm wasn’t working to relax him the way it usually did, and without too much thought, Mike leaned close and reached to smooth his other hand over the top of Chester’s head. “You need to sleep. Just rest,” he whispered in Chester’s ear. 

When he pulled back his eyes met Talinda’s, and he felt his cheeks flush a bit even though she smiled at him. “Why don’t you get a chair, Mike?” she asked quietly. “I don’t mind if you sit with us.” She nodded her head at another chair across the room. “Go ahead.”

They both heard the discontented whimper from Chester when Mike carefully pulled his hand away to get the chair and bring it close to the side of the bed. The chair made a soft scraping sound as Mike dragged it across the floor, and Chester turned his head away from the sound, frowning while feebly reaching in the air for Mike’s hand. In a hurry, Mike sat back down, immediately taking Chester’s hand in his again, and the frown dissolved from Chester’s face as he slowly opened his eyes again to peer at Mike for the first time. 

“Rest, Chester, we’re both right here,” Mike assured him, tracing the lines of Chester’s palm with his thumb. The vocalist’s eyes were dark and unfocused, and Mike could tell it was a struggle to keep them open. 

“Love you,” he mumbled as his eyes slid shut again, his head on the pillow turned toward Mike.

Mike felt his stomach softly flutter and he couldn’t help but smile, even as his eyes flicked over to make contact with Talinda’s for a brief second before he looked down at Chester again. “You’re so sleepy,” Mike said softly. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

The wrinkled frown was back instantly, along with a petulant tone that Mike hadn’t heard in a long time. “No. Love you.”

Mike heard Talinda’s short giggle, barely audible from the other side of the bed, and he rolled his eyes. “You’re so stubborn,” he teased gently. “Go to sleep, Chester.” His heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears. He wanted to say _I love you, too_ but what would Talinda say? For a second, he felt as though he could get away with it. After all, it wasn’t as though they had never said ‘I love you’ to each other before. But something about the state Chester was in, the fuzzy fog and after effects of the anesthesia, made those words feel like a confession of something more. Or maybe it was just Mike’s imagination running away with him, creating scenarios to match his hidden desires. _That’s it. I’m just making stuff up._

But Chester wouldn’t give up, his drowsy voice insistently claiming again, this time slower, “love. You.”

Trying to hide his smile, Mike finally gave in and reciprocated, “love you, too, Ches. Now get some rest.” He didn’t dare to look over at Talinda but dropped his eyes to Chester’s hand, continuing to lovingly stroke his palm until he heard Chester’s breathing even out into a slow, deep rhythm. Listening to him breathe in the hospital room was like being beside him in their hotel room at night, familiar and comforting, and Mike knew that he was safe now. Everything was going to be okay, Chester would sleep off the anesthesia and soon they would go home. _No, he’ll go home. With Tal. And I have to be okay with that. He’s not mine._

Mike looked at Chester’s hand in his, at the edges of the flames he could see around the vocalist’s wrists, and in his mind he saw the rest of Chester’s hidden arm as his eyes scooted up the blanket to Chester’s face. He studied his lips for a moment, his bottom lip and the tiny round lip ring scar, then the jarring sight of his ears without his gauges in, over his shaved head, and back down to his lips.

_”Okay, here, I’ve got one of your Vicodin,” Mike said, holding the water and pill out for Chester to take. “Did I wrap your foot back up good enough? It’s not too tight?”_

_Chester shook his head before tossing the pill in his mouth and swallowing it down. “It’s fine. I just want to go to sleep, Mike.” He handed the glass back to the emcee and struggled his way down into the bed, laying his head on the pillow. “You’re supposed to elevate my foot.”_

_“I know.” Mike had two pillows from Chester’s room on the chair in the corner of the room. “I got these from your room. Remind me to put them back in the morning,” he said as he grabbed them, then gingerly lifted Chester’s leg to put them underneath. “How’s that?”_

_Chester’s eyes were already closed, the fatigue of the day already working to knock him out before the painkiller could even take effect. “It’s fine. Come lay with me, Mike. Tell me it’s going to be alright.” His voice drifted off sleepily, leaving Mike looking down at him from beside the bed._

_“It’s going to be alright, Ches,” Mike whispered, his eyes sliding over the face he loved, Chester’s long lashes and down his nose, across his lips and his chin, before he turned off the lamp._

He didn’t realize how long he’d been silent until Talinda’s whisper cut into his thoughts. “Mike?”

“Hmmm?” He shook the memory from his thoughts as he tore his eyes from Chester’s sleeping face and looked at her. It was the first time he realized how tired and worried she also looked, and he felt like an ass for having been so wrapped up in his own thoughts all morning. He was supposed to be there to be a support to both of them, and all he had done was lose himself in his own worries and memories. 

“He’s going to need weeks of physical therapy. The doctor was telling me, these plates, the screws, it’s not an instant fix. He’ll have to learn to re-walk on his leg once it heals. I… I know he’s going to struggle with this. You’ll come over, right?” 

He caught what looked like fear in her eyes, and he knew in that moment that she was afraid that she wouldn’t be enough. That he’d go down dark paths and it would be on her shoulders. As hard as she tried, she didn’t understand Chester the way Mike did, not when it came to the darkness. He’d always tried to protect her from the ugliness of the truth, Mike knew that much. All of those dark thoughts came out when they wrote together, and after all these years, Mike knew the trigger words that popped up when Chester was hurting. He knew this recovery wasn’t going to be easy, and he knew he needed to be aware of what was happening in Chester’s head. 

“Of course, Tal,” he whispered. “Anything you guys need, I’ll be there.” _Anything he needs… I hope together we can be enough._

*****

A week had passed since Chester had left the hospital, and Mike had spent most of it holed up in the studio, trying to keep his mind off the vocalist. They’d texted a little bit, but it was mostly incoherent drabbles, and Mike knew that in the first few days home, Chester had been knocked out on his pain meds most of the time. 

Over the past few days, the messages had gotten more lucid, but also more infrequent. When the messages stopped altogether, he was just ready to touch base with Talinda when she beat him to it, asking him to come over. He only barely managed to tell Anna where he was going on his way out the door, and he was standing on the Bennington’s doorstep a mere twenty minutes after Talinda called.

She opened the door herself, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, Lily on her hip. 

“Lily-bug!” Mike said, leaning to catch the two-year-old’s cheek for a kiss before he glanced at Talinda’s weary face. “You okay, Tal?” he asked, looking around the foyer of the Bennington’s home. 

“Exhausted,” she said, shifting Lily over to the other side as Lila ran to Mike, her arms lifted in the air. Talinda watched Mike scoop up her other daughter and swing her into the air, twirling her around quickly as she shrieked with laughter.

“Shh, shh,” Mike giggled, setting her down with a smile. “Daddy’s sleeping.” He glanced toward the stairs and then back at Talinda. “Is he sleeping?” 

She shook her head and set Lily down on the floor next to Lila. “Go play, girlies,” she said, nudging them toward the play room. They toddled off toward dolls and blocks, and Mike caught sight of Tyler laying on the floor with a book.

“Hey, Tyler!” he called into the playroom as one of the girls sat down on her brother’s back. 

“Hi, Uncle Mike!” Tyler called back, unfazed by his sister using him as a body pillow.

“You guys be good in there for a minute while I talk to Uncle Mike,” Talinda instructed, leading Mike to the kitchen. She picked up a water glass from the counter and took a sip before she looked at Mike and lowered her voice. “He won’t get out of the bed at all, Mike.”

“What? He’s been in bed this whole time?” Mike’s eye flicked toward the ceiling, as though he could see Chester through the wall. 

“Yeah. He’s only getting up to go the the bathroom. I know he was texting you a bit, but that’s slacked off…” she raised her glass to her lips again, taking another drink. 

“I was going to mention that to you today, but you beat me to it,” Mike admitted, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t know if he was just sleeping more, or…” 

They looked at each other, neither of them wanting to say the words aloud. Suspecting that Chester was spiraling downward and confirming it to each other was two totally different things. Mike ran a hand through his hair, not even caring that it fluffed up and then fell across his forehead, and he didn’t have a hat to cover it. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’m gonna go up and see if I can get him out of bed. If I can get him up, maybe you can help him shower. He probably needs it.” 

Talinda nodded. “He does. I got him one of those chairs for the shower, but you can probably get him in it better than I can. I think it would improve his mood, you know?”

“Sure,” Mike said easily, even though his stomach was rolling with anxiety. Before Talinda could say anything else, he turned and headed for the stairs. “I’ll try to get him up,” he promised. 

He’d been down the hallways of the Bennington’s home many times, and Mike didn’t need to think as he took the stairs two at a time and made his way to Chester’s bedroom. Even though he knew what he was going to see when he opened the door, he still took a deep breath before he knocked lightly and waited. When there was no response, he knocked a little louder, then opened the door.

“Ches? It’s me,” he said, tiptoeing in and shutting the door behind him. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. The shades were drawn and the atmosphere gloomy as he walked toward the bed where Chester was laying on his back, his foot propped up, his eyes closed. _Maybe he is sleeping. Oh well. I can wait for him to wake up. I’ll text him and let him know I’m waiting downstairs._

Mike reached for his phone in his back pocket, but stopped when Chester stirred, reaching for him. “Mike? What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, Ches,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and took Chester’s hand. “I was gonna text you and tell you I was downstairs. You can go back to sleep.”

“Nah,” Chester said quietly, just a ghost of a sound escaping his lips. He stuck his tongue out to wet them and looked at Mike. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?” Mike couldn’t help but ask. “You haven’t been responding to my texts.” It was hard to see Chester in the dim lighting, but Mike could tell his eyes were dull and unfocused. “You’ve been sleeping a lot? How’s your leg feeling?”

Chester looked at him for another second before his eyes slid shut and he sighed. “I’m sleepy. And it still hurts. It aches, Mikey.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat. Chester sounded so distant, so sleepy and sad. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I wish I could do something to help.” He sat next to Chester, watching the rise and fall of his breathing, and thought he’d fallen back to sleep. _So much for getting that shower._

“Mikey?” Chester’s whisper cut into Mike’s thoughts.

“Hmmm?”

“Will you lay with me?” Chester’s request was so innocent sounding, and Mike couldn’t help but smile tenderly at him.

“I think you need a shower, Ches. Tal asked me to try to get you up. She said you haven’t been about of bed all week,” he said gently, watching as Chester’s forehead creased into a frown.

“I don’t wanna stand up,” he whined, shaking his head. “My head feels funny.”

 _Fuck. That’s not good._ “Yeah?” Mike asked, cursing his shaky voice. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t been up much. Come on, I’ll help you, and if you’ll get a shower, I’ll lay with you for a few minutes afterwards.” He glanced at the door, wondering if he should be making promises like that. What if Talinda walked in while they were laying together?

“Yeah?” Chester opened his eyes again, and it looked as though he were trying harder to focus on Mike’s face. “You’ll come to bed with me if I shower?”

Mike shook his head at Chester’s chosen words. “I said I’ll lay with you for a few minutes, yeah,” he corrected, tugging on Chester’s arm. “We can do this. We did it before. And Tal got you a shower chair. It will be fine.” With his free hand he shot Talinda a text to have their housekeeper come change the sheets on the bed while he got Chester showered. He glanced down in time to see her respond “ok” before he laid his phone on the bedside table next to Chester’s. “Sit up,” he said, pulling Chester’s hand toward him.

It wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be to get Chester out of the bed and into the bathroom, but once his leg was wrapped and he was situated on the shower chair, Mike relaxed a little. “Ches? I’ll be right here in the bathroom if you need me.”

“Okay.” 

Mike barely heard Chester’s response over the sound of the shower heads beating down. He wanted to ask if it felt good to be getting a shower, but didn’t want to shout. He paced a circle around the spacious bathroom, trying not to think about Chester naked in the shower just feet away from him. Chester, whose body wash he could smell in the humidity of the bathroom. Chester, his best friend in the whole world, who Mike could tell was struggling with the broken ankle and everything had had come with it. Chester, who Mike was worried about and thought about constantly whether they were together or apart.

Chester was quicker with his business than Mike expected, and he was helping his friend from the shower before he really had time to think about much else. He had helped Chester into a favored set of pink polka dotted pajama pants and back to the bed before either of them spoke again.

“Thanks, Mike,” Chester mumbled tiredly as the emcee steered him toward the freshly made bed.

 _That was quick,_ Mike thought as he pulled back the comforter. “Here you go, Ches, fresh and clean.” He guided Chester down, and helped him lay back on the pillow. “Let me prop up your leg, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Mike placed a pillow under the offending leg and let Chester’s toes stick out as he pulled the sheets up to cover his body. “How’s that?” He couldn’t help but run a hand over Chester’s damp hair as he looked him over. 

“You were right. I feel a better. My leg still hurts, though.” Chester was already slipping back into sleep, his words a little slurred.

“I know,” Mike soothed, looking down at Chester’s toes peeking out of the sheets. “You still want me to lay with you?” 

“Please,” Chester whispered, turning his head toward the open space beside him. “Just for a minute.”

Mike hesitated just long enough to look at the closed bedroom door. Talinda was busy with the kids downstairs, and he wasn’t tired. He wouldn’t fall asleep. “Alright,” he agreed, walking around the side of the bed and kicking off his shoes. “Just for a second.”

He stayed on top of the blanket, scooting close to Chester but not wrapping his arms around him. He slid his palm down Chester’s arm and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together the way they did on the road. “How’s this?” he whispered, his face close to Chester’s, his eyes on the vocalist’s profile. 

“’S good,” Chester mumbled. “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry about this.” His voice was thick and tired, and each word sounded lifeless, as though the shower had stolen all of his energy reserves. 

“Shhh,” Mike hushed, staring at the side of Chester’s face. “I’m not mad. I just need you to be okay. I need you to tell me when you need me here, Ches, don’t make me guess. Don’t make me worry. I was worried about you.” He squeezed Chester’s fingers and felt him squeeze back weakly.

“Stay,” was all Chester said in response, his voice small in the quiet stillness of the bedroom.

“I’m right here, Ches. I’m not going to leave,” Mike whispered back. _I’ll just stay until he falls asleep, then I’ll sit over there on the couch. I’m not tired. I’ll just close my eyes for a second. He sounds like he’s already asleep. I’ll just lay here for another minute. Just one…_


	34. Part Four: THP -- Anchor

**February 22, 2015**

Mike closed the door to his home studio and dropped down on the couch, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. Just the simple act of having dinner with his family had been tiring. Anna’s attempts at conversation, the kid’s interjections, the dogs running around. He wanted a few minutes of peace, and the only way to get it was to pretend to work. By the time the last bites were eaten, the kids faces and the dishes cleaned, his skin was practically crawling with the need to be alone. He’d somehow excused himself to the studio without disappointing anyone, and he felt a little guilty, wondering if the reason Anna let him disappear upstairs without a fight was because he was being so moody lately.

The moods were just part of the stress of taking care of Chester, he mused as he lay back and closed his eyes. His time management was at its all time worst. It wasn’t easy, bouncing between their houses, and it had been weeks already. He was somehow able to get Chester out of bed on most days, but he felt himself slowly becoming more desperate for things to change every time he saw his best friend. 

The lack of light in Chester’s eyes was Mike’s biggest concern at the moment, even more than the bottle of Vicodin on the bedside table and the sleepless nights when Chester would call him. Those mostly incoherent, late night calls were nothing compared to the dull look of resignation in Chester’s eyes when they were together. It was present in everything they had done since Chester came home from surgery, and seemed to grow more prominent as the days passed.

Mike had spent hours perched on Talinda’s side of the bed, watching television, talking, writing song lyrics, watching Chester sleep. The hardest part of being together right now was the way Chester wanted him so close when he was sleeping. There was something different about Mike lying in bed with Chester in the Bennington’s house. It felt much more intimate than laying together in a hotel room. 

It wasn’t just the shared comfort of a familiar body in an unfamiliar location, the way it was out on the road away from their families, and it was harder to lie to himself and pretend that sleeping together was just something they did because they missed their wives. Laying with Chester in the Bennington’s bed was something more, something that straddled the line between what he knew was appropriate and what never would be, no matter the situation they found themselves in. Somewhere along the years the sexual, magnetic pull Mike felt toward Chester had deepened into love, and it was never more evident than when he was laying next to him all those weeks as his ankle healed, carefully keeping his distance but longing to be closer. 

If he looked at their past objectively, Mike was able admit that he’d been in love with Chester for years, and had been able to recognize that fact for some time now. The physical attraction was only one piece of the whole package, though, and that piece had been shoved away in a far corner of Mike’s mind in recent weeks. As he doted on the vocalist, bringing him small treats and helping him with every day activities, distracting him from his somewhat dependent state, Mike wasn’t looking at Chester’s body. All he could see was the heart of the man he was in love with, a heart that was weary of the perceived hardships he placed on others.

No matter how much Mike reassured him, smoothed his fingers over worried expressions, took care with his emotional fragility, it didn’t feel like enough. The smiles and laughter he got from Chester felt insincere, and nothing short of writing seemed to keep the vocalist interested for very long. They had a notebook full of incomplete lyrics and Mike had no desire to take those lyrics and put music to them. Everything was too dark, too serious, too real.

The soft knock at the studio door had him scrambling up and fumbling with the computer, bringing his electronics to life. Mike pushed a hand through his hair before he opened the door, coming face to face unexpectedly with Brad instead of Anna. He wordlessly backed up to let the guitarist enter the studio, glancing down the hallway before he shut the door and turned to find Brad already at the far wall windows, looking out into the twilight of the back garden.

“Didn’t know you were coming by,” Mike said as he sank back onto the couch and rested his head on the cushion.

“Figured it was the best way to get to you, you’re not returning anyone’s calls,” Brad said softly, no accusation in his voice. “How’s he doing?” It wasn’t necessary to define ‘he’ as Chester. The whole band knew that Chester was the only person who came to Mike’s mind when that pronoun was uttered.

“Fuck,” Mike sighed quietly. “It’s not as good as I want it to be. I’m trying, Brad, but he’s just not cooperating with me. We’ve been writing, so I guess that’s something.”

“Anything good?” Brad asked, turning away from the window. He took a long look at his friend, his disheveled hair, the dark circles under his eyes, the thinner look to his cheeks. Mike was stretching himself thin and not taking care of his own needs, and it was evident in how he looked, sitting on the couch, fretting over Chester. 

“I don’t know,” Mike confessed. “It’s bits and pieces, he’s not staying focused long enough to do any real work. He’s really taken the canceled dates hard, worrying about you guys… he’s just… being Chester, you know?” He leaned forward and put his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

Brad walked over and sat next to Mike, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looked at the floor with his friend. “Yeah. I know.” They were silent for a minute, thinking over what ‘being Chester’ meant to each of them, before Brad straightened up and put a comforting hand on Mike’s back. “You look wrecked, Mike. You’re not getting enough sleep, I can tell.”

Mike didn’t say anything, just let Brad smooth his hand lazily over the back of his t-shirt. It wouldn’t do any good to argue, what Brad said was true. He was having a hard time sleeping without Chester next to him, and even when they were together during the day and Chester napped, Mike found himself lost in thought or simply watching the vocalist’s peaceful moments. He never fell asleep in Chester and Talinda’s bed, not after the first time Chester had asked him to stay. The experience of waking up there, the panic he felt over being at their home and not out on the road, was enough to keep him awake despite the familiarity and comfort they found sleeping together.

“I know you’re trying to keep an eye on him, but maybe we should be taking shifts or something. You take on too much sometimes, you know that.” Before Mike could protest, Brad went on. “You’ve got your family to tend, also, Mike.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what this is about?” Mike asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Did Anna ask you to come?” His eyes darted to the door quickly, wondering if she’d be coming in soon to help Brad stage an intervention.

“No,” Brad denied, his hand still on Mike’s back. “I just know how you are. When you aren’t returning calls, when I’m not getting two or three texts a day of ‘listen to this thing I just made up,’ I know you’re not in your healthiest head space. You’re in Chester’s.” He kept smoothing his hand over Mike’s back, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. Mike needed to hear the truth. “You both can’t be there, and you know it.”

_I can’t leave him there alone, though. I’d never forgive myself if… if…”_ Mike couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. “It’s the only way I can get through to him,” Mike admitted, closing his eyes. “It’s the reason he trusts me. I can meet him in those dark places, understand what’s in his head, but I know how to get out. He doesn’t. I’m trying to help him get out of that negative headspace. I have to go there to understand.”

Brad looked over, taking in Mike’s defeated posture as he spoke. “Maybe you need a break from each other,” Brad suggested carefully, but Mike responded exactly the way he’d expected.

“A break? You know I can’t do that. He’ll feel abandoned. Besides, we’ve got the band meeting tomorrow-”

“That can wait if it needs to,” Brad interrupted. “What do we need to talk about anyway?”

Mike stood up, letting Brad’s hand fall to the couch. “It was more or less just a way to get him out of the house. He _needs_ to leave the house for something. I don’t care what we talk about, I just want him to join the living world for a bit.” Mike paced a half circle around the console and equipment in the room. “This is worse than when he broke his wrist, Brad. A lot worse. At least we could keep doing the shows then. Right now all he can think about is how he let the fans down, how he let us down. He needs to hear you guys say it’s okay.”

“We’ve _told_ him that, you know,” Brad said, watching Mike as he walked back and forth. “It doesn’t matter how many times we say it, he’ll believe it when he wants to. And not any earlier than that. What?” he asked as Mike shot him a withering look. “You know that’s true. But I’m with you. Get him over here tomorrow, and you never know. It might be the trigger to set him back on the right path.”

Shoving both hands through his hair, Mike sighed as he looked toward the vocal booth. “God, I hope so,” he mumbled, his heart suddenly heavy. “I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t snap out of this. _We’ll_ do,” he corrected, ignoring the knowing look on Brad’s face.

**********

The sun was high the next afternoon, flooding in the windows of Mike’s home studio when he finally got Chester upstairs and settled, propping his foot up as Jasper sniffed around underfoot. The small fluff-ball that passed as a dog had an affinity for Chester, and couldn’t understand the aloofness coming from his favorite human. Chester was quiet and distracted, even from the dog.

“Looks like Jasper missed you,” Mike commented, working to keep his voice light and easy. He didn’t want to ask Chester to take off his sunglasses. He knew it would only lead to a conversation he didn’t want to have. Maybe they could ignore how things really were for a little while longer if he just left the sunglasses on… maybe they both could pretend that Mike didn’t know what was happening. 

“Give him to me,” Chester instructed, holding out his arms. Mike scooped up the dog and deposited him in Chester’s lap, where the vocalist promptly cuddled him close. 

It made Mike’s whole body feel lighter, watching Chester love on the animal in his arms. There was always something so carefree and childlike about the way Chester related to dogs. They were willing to be held, and calm as they sat with him, no matter how hyper they’d been before. It was endearing, and Mike smiled in relief as Chester stroked Jasper’s fur and scratched lightly behind his ears. Before long the dog was asleep, with Chester absently petting him as they waited for the rest of the band to show up. 

Chester never did take the sunglasses off, and none of the guys made a single comment about it. He’d barely spoken during the meeting, except at the end when Mike played a track for the band that he’d been working on in a few scraped together spare moments. He’d been able to see Mike’s fidgety hands despite how he tried to hide them, and read anxiousness in his voice as he asked for the band’s input.

“It doesn’t exactly sound like a Linkin Park song, you know? More like a Fort Minor song, but I don’t really know if that’s what it should be. I mean, should it be that?” Mike looked at the faces of his bandmates and friends, remembering how it as had gone the last time he worked on Fort Minor. When Chester took a break for Dead By Sunrise and everything felt strange and off balance between the six of them.

“I think it should be whatever you want it to be,” Chester said easily, his voice a little dreamlike. 

“Maybe you need a little distraction, a bit of a break,” Brad added, reminding Mike of their conversation from yesterday. 

“I have the idea,” Mike added, watching Chester closely, “of just releasing it as a single, but doing this cool artwork to go with it… I don’t know.” He trailed off, taking notice of Chester starting to doze off on the couch. “Anyway, if it’s okay with you guys, I’ll just keep that one.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “Looks like I need to get Chester back home, he’s falling asleep.”

Everyone gave their stamp of approval to Mike keeping the track for himself, standing and gathering their things to leave. Nothing had been accomplished other than getting Chester out of his house, but that felt like enough. There was a rustling of activity as cell phones and wallets were retrieved and pocketed, and Jasper picked his head up off Chester’s stomach, but the vocalist didn’t move. 

Brad turned to look at Chester, at how still he was, and his eyes flashed back to Mike quickly. “I think he’s already asleep, Mike.”

Mike nodded, a worried wrinkle appearing between his eyes. “Go on,” he said quietly, motioning toward the door. “Anna can see you out. I’ve got this.” Everyone exchanged barely audible goodbyes as Mike reached for Jasper, pulling the dog from Chester’s arms and setting him on the floor. 

He thought for a moment about letting Chester sleep there on the couch, but Talinda would be expecting them home, and Mike knew he’d be more comfortable in his own bed. “Ches?”

“Hmm?” One of Chester’s hands reached toward the sound of Mike’s voice.

“Right here,” Mike said, taking Chester’s hand. “The guys are leaving, it’s time to head back.” He heard the front door open. “See? Did you hear that? Everyone’s gone.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Chester complained, lifting his head. Mike couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses. “They already left? We didn’t talk about anything,” he said again.

Mike sighed. “I know, there wasn’t much to talk about. It’s hard to make plans right now. But that will get better. You’ve got to get to physical therapy and get that started. Then we’ll have an idea what we can do and when. Come on,” he stated, pulling on Chester’s hand. “Let’s get you home.” He could tell he’d said too much by the thin set of Chester’s lips. It was evident that the vocalist had no interest in hearing about what was holding up their plans. 

Chester was silent the entire way down the stairs, Mike on one side and the railing on the other as he hopped each step on one foot. But when they reached the bottom, he turned just enough to throw his other arm around Mike and pull him into a hug. “God, feels like it’s been forever since I hugged you,” Chester mumbled. 

“It’s because you’ve been in bed for weeks,” Mike said, conveniently skirting around the memories of helping Chester shower or dress on the occasions he’d done so. There was an unspoken rule that there was no more physical closeness than necessary when those two activities were happening. Mike squeezed Chester back tightly, savoring the feel of the fully clothed vocalist in his arms. “Maybe you’ll get out more, now that you see that you can do it,” he added hopefully.

“Maybe,” Chester said uncertainly, pulling his arms away from Mike’s neck and grabbing the crutches that were waiting at the foot of the stairs. Mike just watched him stubbornly hobble his way to the car, letting him do it his own way. 

The drive back to Chester’s place was like much of the rest of the day had been - silent. Mike chewed on his bottom lip while Chester leaned against the passenger window. He knew Chester wasn’t really sleeping, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, either, so Mike let the silence stretch between them until he pulled his car into the Bennington’s circle drive. There was no banter, no small talk as Mike helped him out of the car, and Chester barely acknowledged he was home when he came in the front door. Mike had no idea where the kids were, but Talinda was in the living room, watching television, when they walked in.

“Hey, Tal,” Mike greeted, shutting the door behind himself and glancing her way as she bounced up from the chair and came straight to Chester.

“How was it?” she addressed her husband sweetly, leaning in for a kiss.

“Fine. I’m tired,” he answered, and he really did sound tired. Talinda immediately stepped back. “I think I’ll go upstairs,” he said, and Mike watched the welcoming sparkle in Talinda’s eyes fade. 

She looked at Mike, the sadness evident in her expression, then back at Chester. “Babe, don’t you want to stay down here for a while?” she tried, her eyes following her husband as he made his way across the room and to the stairs.

“I’m going up,” was all he said, propping his crutches against the wall next to the bottom step. “Mike?”

“Behind you,” Mike answered with an apologetic look for Talinda, coming to loop his arm around Chester’s waist and help him back up the stairs. It took longer than going down, but they managed, and Mike jogged back down the steps to retrieve the crutches while Chester waited at the top. “Here you go.” He frowned as Chester took the crutches from his hands silently and started toward the bedroom, leaving Mike with no choice but to follow along behind. 

Once they finally had Chester back on the bed, and a pain pill reluctantly passed to him by Mike, the truth behind the silence finally popped out. “I just want to feel better,” Chester whined, his back against the headboard of his bed. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his eyelids. It wasn’t all about his ankle, though it did still ache at times. He knew that Mike understood what he meant without saying it, and that in itself was comforting.

Mike tightened the lid on the pill bottle and glanced at the label before he set it down. _No refills. Thank God._ “I know you do,” Mike soothed, relieved that the vocalist was talking to him again, and pulling on the duvet that was covering the bed. Chester was settled on top of it, a book in his hand, a glass of water on the nightstand next to him. “Do you have everything you need? I won’t be back until some time tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t want to go downstairs? Tal looked a little disappointed.”

Chester shook his head. “No, I’m good here. I’ll probably take a nap after you go.” His eyes were still closed. “But maybe I should just lay down now. My eyes feel so heavy.” 

_Naps. He’s been sleeping so much._ Mike glanced around the room - the meticulously clean surfaces, the abstract artwork, the soft muted colors - and then back at Chester. “At least let me open the curtains a little. Let some light in, it might make you feel better.”

“I don’t want them open,” Chester answered stubbornly. He cracked open his eyes and fixed them on Mike, challenging him to argue. 

With a sigh, Mike ran his hand over his face, trying to keep the exasperation from showing. “Okay. Just… promise me that you’ll go downstairs for dinner later. The kids… you know they just want you to come out for a while. It’s been a month, Ches. You’ve got to start getting out of this room more. This afternoon was a start, but I really think you’ll feel better if you try to interact with your family a little more.”

“I _know_ , Mike,” Chester bit out before he turned his face toward the windows. “I’ll go down for dinner, okay? I’ll send you a selfie with my plate.”

“Come on, Ches,” Mike complained softly. “You don’t have to be like that. I’m just trying to help.” He bit down on his bottom lip as he reached out to touch the vocalist’s arm lightly. “I’ll check on you later, okay?”

A slight nod was all he got from Chester, and the indifference squeezed at his heart. He moved his hand from the vocalist’s arm, reaching a single fingertip to turn Chester’s chin back toward him. “Okay?” he said again, softly, an undertone of desperation in his voice. Chester’s big brown eyes locked into Mike’s, the sadness and self-loathing evident. “Or you can call if you need me before that. I wish I could stay, but-”

“You’ve got to go home, Mike,” Chester interrupted. “Your family needs you at home.” He wanted to look away from Mike, but he couldn’t. The impassioned stare he was getting from the emcee made it impossible.

Guilt filtered through Mike’s bones as he thought about his family, his own kids and his wife that had been second to Chester’s tragedy for the past month. “And your family needs you here. See? Don’t you see, Chester? They’re waiting for you like mine is waiting for me. And it bothers the hell out of me, but I don’t think you’ve thought about it at all. Tyler misses you, the girls ask about you constantly. I know you’re right up here, but you’re not participating. You’re not _here_ in their minds, it’s like you’re on tour but you’re not. You’re accessible but not really. I know you’re hurting, Ches, and I know you think we’re all upset about the tour and stuff but we’re not! Everyone just wants you back. Tal, the kids, me, the guys… we all just want you back.” 

Mike ended his little tirade a bit breathless, and to his horror he watched Chester’s eyes fill with tears. “Fuck, fuck, Chester… I’m sorry. I didn’t… _fuck_.” He dropped his hand away from Chester’s face and sat on the edge of the bed, groping for the vocalist’s hand. “I just need you to be okay, Chester, like I’ve said so many times before. And more than me, far more important than me, your family needs you too. We need you to get out of bed and participate in your life. Go to physical therapy and get better. And the band… well, we could still have a chance of making some of the dates in May if you’ll just… _try._ ”

There was only silence as Mike stroked familiar circles into the palm of Chester’s hand the way he did so often, while Chester fought to keep his emotions under control. Mike dropped his head and stared at their hands, linked together. It was a sight he never tired of seeing. 

“You think that’s true?” Chester finally asked, his voice small. “About May?” 

“Of course,” Mike said in a rush, his face popping into a smile. “It’s all up to you, what you feel able to do.” He finally saw a spark of recognition in Chester’s eyes, the smallest flame that signaled he was actually hearing what Mike was saying, and he decided to take a chance. “I _know_ this is hard for you. Trust me, I get it. I’ve never felt this way myself, the crushing weight you describe,” he said quietly, “but when you tell me how it feels, when you’re down there, Chester, I feel it, too. I’m down there with you, and all I want is to claw my way back up and bring you with me. I’m trying, but you’re holding us down. Stop holding us down and let me carry you.” 

A weightless moment passed between them, as though Mike’s words had shifted everything, wiped everything clean, and Chester squeezed Mike’s hand tightly. “You always know,” he whispered, “in ways that nobody else ever could. I don’t… I don’t know how I’d ever get through anything without you. You’re my anchor.” 

_You’re my anchor._ With one sentence, suddenly everything that had been weightless was being pulled back by the gravity of Chester’s words, and there was a heaviness in the air behind his declaration. 

“No,” Mike said, shaking his head, “I don’t want to be your anchor. I’m not pulling you down. Let me be your hot air balloon, or something. Let me carry you when you need to be carried.” They smiled at each other, Mike’s metaphor sounding cheesy and ridiculous to both of them, the line lifting the tension between them. 

“Come on,” Mike coaxed softly. “Let me take you downstairs. I know we just got up here, but… being with Tal and out of this room will do you good.” 

He could see the struggle, the dark shadow in Chester’s eyes that wanted to say no, and sighed with relief when he answered, “okay. Let’s go.” 

Mike leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Chester’s forehead. “That’s it, Ches. The first step. I’ve got you.” _I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go, even once we’re past all this. I’ve got you._


	35. Part Four: THP -- Breathe

**September 6, 2015**

“I’m glad they’ll be back tomorrow,” Talinda said, her dark hair piled high on her head, as she adjusted the tie of the halter strap on her tiny bikini and rubbed a towel over Lily’s wet skin. “Though, that’s totally selfish. I know when he’s home too long, he’s so restless. Unless they’re working. You think they’ll hop right in to the next album?” She was almost babbling as she finished drying off Lily and turned to Lila. 

Anna did a quick head to toe glance of her friend before she self consciously touched the over the shoulder straps of her much more modest cut-out one piece swimsuit. These days she was proud of her body, but it didn’t feel very warm and motherly to play around with the kids with the very real danger of her top falling off. Somehow, Talinda always managed to keep hers up, and Anna couldn’t help but admire that.

Dripping wet kids were everywhere, but Anna didn’t mind. It felt normal, the eight of them together. “You’re ready for them to be back? I feel like I’m just getting back into a routine!” She laughed, thinking how crazy it was to feel like her life was more normal when her husband wasn’t home. “I’m so glad Chester is back to himself,” Anna said as she tossed a towel over Abi’s shoulders and knelt to dry off Josie. Tyler and Otis were still in the pool, about to start their last race. Everyone seemed happy and tired. Lunch would be quick and then they’d probably all lay on the floor in the Shinoda’s playroom and watch a movie. If Anna and Talinda got lucky, the little ones might even take a bit of a nap.

“Mostly,” Talinda agreed ambiguously, her too fast chatter suddenly subdued, and Anna made a mental note to ask how things _really_ were later when the kids weren’t underfoot. _Nine months. It’s been nine months since the accident, and it just now feels like we’re getting everything back together. Just in time for them to come home again. But that’s good. It’s normal. We all need normal. I think it’s normal, even though sometimes it just feels right when Mike’s away._

Somehow, Anna had held on to her patience during Chester’s convalescent months, selflessly sitting on the sidelines while Mike wore himself ragged caring more than she thought he should. She’d talked herself out of a confrontation on many occasions, trying to be more like Talinda, trying to be more accepting, trying to see Mike and Chester’s relationship and codependency as healthy instead of threatening. She’d bitten her tongue when Mike was so tired he’d fall asleep in the studio after dinner, or when he was away from the family all afternoon, or when he insisted on being the one to take Chester to physical therapy. 

As he’d promised, Linkin Park managed to make some of their scheduled May and June dates, and things had felt as though they were inching back to how they were before the accident. Chester seemed to be physically holding up, but past that, Anna didn’t really know. Mike didn’t talk to her about his emotional health, and Anna didn’t ask. It was a well established fact that Chester’s emotions were balanced on the edge most of the time, and all it took to swing widely from happiness to despair was one misjudged word or action. Mike was practiced at defusing most of the bad situations, and life in the summer plodded along in a mix of physical therapy, swimming, writing music, and time with their families. Almost normal. 

When the band left out for China, she’d decided it was better that they were back on the road. It was better when she didn’t have to watch it all unfold, day after day. It was better when Mike was just her husband that was away on tour, not her husband who was away from her even when he was at home. Eleven years of marriage, and she had mostly made peace with the idea that Chester was important to Mike. Mostly.

Anna glanced over at Talinda again, her arms around the twins, and looked at the set of her lips and the look of determination in her eyes. There was something she wasn’t saying. “Ready?” she asked, standing up and wrapping her own towel snugly around her waist.

“Yeah, let’s go, my loves,” Talinda said to her girls, turning them toward the house. “Ty! Time to get out of the water and get changed! It’s lunch time!” she called over her shoulder.

With minimal complaints, Tyler and Otis came out of the pool, laughing and shaking their hair like wet dogs. Eventually Anna and Talinda herded all six damp kids inside, changed them out of wet swimsuits, and got them seated around the long kitchen table before they teamed up for lunch. There was an assembly line of sandwiches to be made, milk to be poured, and apples to be cut. Like two moms who were used to being on their own, they were efficient even while they talked and laughed with the children at the same time. It was all a chaotic mess of little girl giggles and little boy shouts, excited dogs, and tired moms. 

Eight organic peanut butter and no sugar added jelly on whole wheat bread sandwiches later, Anna was pulling out blankets and pillows and the boys were making forts from which their little sisters could watch _Frozen._ It had been almost six weeks since their fathers had left on tour, and things were definitely starting to click again in her married single mom life. _It helps that Josie is older now, and we’re done with diapers. I’m so glad to be done with diapers._

As the girls watched, Tyler and Otis meticulously planned their blanket fort, close friends who bantered back and forth just like their fathers. Anna heart twisted in recognition of how they spoke to one another. _They sound like a mini Mike and Chester. I wonder if they will always be close. I wonder if Otis will leave his wife at home someday to take care of Tyler. I wonder if that’s just what you do when you love someone the way Mike loves Chester. I wonder, if it had been Talinda, if I would have done the same._

Anna blinked and the thoughts vanished as Talinda came from the guest room, a soft pink cotton t-shirt and yoga pants on, her tiny bikini long gone. “You gonna go change?” she asked, pointing at Anna and then looking around the room at the mostly controlled chaos. “They’re fine, go get your swimsuit off.” 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be right back.” The girls didn’t even look her direction as she slipped away, toward the master bedroom. Anna went straight for the dresser, pulling out a pair of running shorts and a tank top, and then her eyes went to the small orange and blue polka dotted dish on Mike’s side. It was a shallow bowl made from a coiled clay snake, lovingly made by Otis at the tender age of four and presented for a Father’s Day present. Mike loved the little dish, and it sat in a place of honor on his side of the dresser, where it carefully held his wedding ring while he was out on tour. 

Ever since a fan had pulled his necklace off when he went into the crowd years ago during the Meteora tours, Mike had left every meaningful piece of jewelry behind when he left on tour. He’d been lucky to get the necklace back, he’d said all those years ago, and he didn’t want to take a chance with his wedding ring. It was too important. Anna looked at the dish their son had made, and the symbol of their marriage lying alone instead of wrapped around Mike’s finger. It struck her as sad - heartbreaking even - instead of cautious, that he’d left it behind. She reached out and picked it up, feeling the weight of the platinum and the row of diamonds, and she slid it on her finger next to her engagement ring. 

_If it were Chester’s ring, he’d never take it off._ The thought came to her suddenly and Anna frowned, staring at the ring. _It looks like Chester’s ring. It could_ be _Chester’s ring._ She twisted it a few times before she slid it off and placed it back in the dish, picking up her clothes and going into the bathroom to change, trying forcefully to push her unpleasant thoughts away, the way she always did now. It had never done her any good to get worked up over things with Chester, or to let let her imagination run away with her. As she constantly reminded herself- Talinda didn’t think anything was wrong with their husbands’ relationship. It wasn’t anything to worry about. It was normal. 

Her wet swimsuit was off and drying on the edge of the bathtub when Anna stepped into her running shorts, and looked at Mike’s side of the vanity. _He always leaves everything so neat and clean when he goes. Almost like he was never here._ She pulled on her sports bra and tank top, then ran her hand through her damp hair. _He’ll be back tomorrow, and he’ll work his way right back into our lives as though he was never away. There will be shoes by the front door and toothpaste by his sink. The orange dish will be empty and the ring on his finger. He’ll leave his hair gel on the counter and his coffee cup in the rack. He’ll be back. I’ll know he’s back because all of his things will be moving, living, breathing. Not part of a shrine to a man who stays here sometimes._

“Anna?” 

The sound of Talinda’s voice from the hallway brought Anna out of heavy thoughts. “Yeah?” she called, turning toward the bedroom and flipping off the bathroom light.

“The boys are in Otis’ room, the girls are in their fort. How about some wine?” Talinda stepped into the bedroom as Anna stepped out of the bathroom.

“Sure, I’ve got a great bottle of red I’ll go open up and let breathe.” She caught the look on Talinda’s face, and dropped her voice. “Tal? You okay? You’ve been kinda off all afternoon.” She looked at the bed, where Mike would be tomorrow night, propped up on two pillows with his glasses on and a sketchbook in his hands, trying to turn his brain off.

“I, well, I don’t know,” Talinda admitted, taking a step back as Anna headed for the hallway. “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the kids.”

Anna cocked an eyebrow her friend’s way. “Think the girls will stay up here for a few minutes?”

They walked out and into the game room, where all four girls were huddled together and watching _Frozen._ “I think so. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll fall asleep,” Talinda said softly.

“Okay, come on.” Anna kept walking, past the blanket fort, and down the stairs to the kitchen. She went straight for the wine cooler as Talinda perched on one of the barstools and watched. “What’s going on?”

Talinda fidgeted with her damp hair for a minute, watching Anna pop the cork and pour the wine into a decanter. After a few seconds of silence, she looked down at her hands. “Mike called me earlier. Before we came. Well, last night for them,” she amended, looking at the clock on the microwave. 

“What? Why?” Anna couldn’t help the little stab out jealousy that poked at her heart. _He hasn’t called me in two days._ She wiped down the inside of two red wine glasses and sat them on the bar in front of Talinda, looking at her face for clues.

“When I said I’m glad they’ll be home tomorrow, there’s something about that, something Mike told me, that I think you should know.” Talinda twisted her fingers together and sighed. “He thinks Chester is drinking again.”

Anna let out a breath she’d been holding, relief sweeping over her for a moment before she realized the implications of what Talinda said. “Drinking? No… I mean, surely he’s wrong.”

“I don’t think so,” Talinda replied, shaking her head slowly. “I… I kind of felt that way before they left, too, but I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to accuse him…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Anna. “He’s always been fine with Mike. I didn’t even think to tell him what I suspected.”

“And Mike called to tell you?” Anna asked quietly. “He must be worried.”

Talinda looked away again, a deep, shuddering breath taking over her voice for a moment. “I think it’s more than drinking, he does sound worried. I don’t want to even _think_ about him going to rehab. That’s… I thought we were past that. I mean, I’ve always known that it was a possibility he could relapse, I knew that, but, I thought… I thought he was happier. Things were going fine until he broke his ankle.” She stopped, lifting a hand to her hair and picking at the elastic holding her ponytail in place. “I thought we were past all that. Mike worked so hard to keep him leveled after the accident…”

The disappointment, the sadness and the fear on Talinda’s face was almost too much for Anna. “I’m sorry, Tal. And I know you both worked hard on that. Maybe it’s not what you guys think. It doesn’t have to mean rehab, you know? Chester’s gone through some drinking spells before and you’ve managed to pull him out. This could be like that, not as serious as you think.”

“But… he’s with _Mike_ ,” Talinda whined in a tone that clearly expressed that she never thought Chester would relapse in Mike’s company. 

“Well, Mike can’t fix everything,” Anna snapped softly before she bit her tongue. “God, I’m sorry, Tal, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

There was a strange mix of resignation and amusement on Talinda’s face, and she simply shook her head. “I never said he could. Mike’s just always made him stronger. So right now, if he’s drinking behind Mike’s back, it’s serious. There’s no way it couldn’t be.”

It was silent as they contemplated Talinda’s words, and then Anna picked up the decanter. “You know, fuck it. This can breathe in our glasses. I never even knew wine needed to breathe until Mike started reading up about it, and I still think it’s pretentious. So, here,” she said, pouring a glass of the red liquid and handing it off to Talinda. “We need this.”

“Yeah. We do.” Talinda swirled her glass for a second, then took a sip. “Mike’s gonna talk to him,” she said quietly, “and then maybe we’ll know what we’re dealing with. Maybe it’s not too serious, but we’ll only know if he tells Mike the truth.” She took another sip, then swirled her glass again, looking down into it.

Anna nodded, even though Talinda wasn’t looking at her. “He’ll tell Mike the truth. He always does.” _Rehab. I don’t even want to think about the kind of hell that will cause. I hope it’s not too bad. I hope it’s not what Mike thinks. I hope. God, I really do hope._ “Come on, let’s go back upstairs with this. Maybe there’s room in the fort for us,” she joked with a soft smile. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe when they came home tomorrow, they would both really be home.

**********

Mike lay on his side, the harsh light from the adjoining bathroom glowing on Chester’s sleeping face. He kept trying to blink away the hot sting of tears in his eyes, but each time a new tear took its place, and he finally just gave in, letting them slip down the corners of his eyes and drop to the pillow below. When one dripped across his nose, he heard the soft plop even over the sound of the hotel room air conditioner.

_I’ve called Tal. She knows. And now it’s a matter of getting him home and taking care of things. He’ll be mad at me when I bring it up. But I can’t let this go on. Fucking naive, how could I be so fucking blind?_

He thought that things had been better. He’d gone with Chester to physical therapy, and things had seemed fine. They’d done shows in May and June, and nothing seemed off. If anything, Chester was in great shape. Instead of yoga and stretching, he was going through elaborate weight lifting sequences and a lot of running. He’d encouraged it all, almost relieved that Chester was finding ways to be active again. 

And so things had slowly gone back to what Mike thought of as normal over the course of several spring and summer months, and the months following Chester’s ankle surgery became a memory they were all trying to forget. 

Until little by little, Mike felt his best friend slipping away again, in more subtle ways than before. It wasn’t days of withdrawal, lying in his bed at home refusing shower or go out, or to speak to anyone. It was small things, things that could have been easily missed, if Mike didn’t know what he was looking for.

Not going out after the shows. 

Not eating dinner with the guys.

Not calling home.

Not making eye contact on stage.

The little things started to add up, and then one night, there was the smell of alcohol on Chester’s sleeping breaths, and Mike was certain he was imagining it. One night it was there, the next night it wasn’t, then a week later it was again. Then two nights in a row, and tonight, Chester was sleeping so heavily that Mike couldn’t rouse him. 

That was how he ended up in the bed, his heart aching, his eyes taking in every curve and corner, every line, every feature of Chester’s face. He was almost certain that after they talked in the morning and had the really hard conversation that Mike didn’t want to initiate, Chester would be going back to rehab when they got home, and Mike felt like he had failed. All of the months he’d been trying to keep them afloat, his watchful eyes on Chester, and yet here they were, another stay at the facility in Utah feeling imminent. 

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to admit that he couldn’t do anything to stop the downward spiral Chester had been on since January. He wasn’t ready to admit he couldn’t fix things. 

The last time Chester had gone away, it had been for months. Mike had been allowed to visit, but visiting and having complete access was something totally different. It was hard to not be able to pick up the phone and call whenever he wanted, or drive over to visit, or tell Chester to come to the studio. He reached out a hand to stroke over the front of Chester’s pajama shirt. _That was ten years ago. Before… before things got so complicated. I don’t want you to go back. But I can’t fix you right now. You need more help than I can give you. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner. I thought I could do it._

Mike scooted closer in the bed, tucking his head under Chester’s chin as he listened to his heartbeat, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him tightly. Nothing he could do tonight was going to fix anything. If he was going to say something, he had to be careful and do it right. He had to talk to Chester without accusations. He had to get the truth without shaming him. He had to do it before they got on the plane to go home.

He closed his eyes and tried not to panic. _I’ll know the right words in the morning. And eventually, he’ll understand that this is all because I love him, not because I want to hurt him._ Mike focused on matching his breathing to Chester’s. In and out… in, and out.


	36. Part Four: THP -- Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a trigger warning for this chapter - for suicide ideation/discussion and depression. We know in real life that Chester spent time in rehab in 2016 and that he had made attempts on his life before OML came out. If the subject matter is disturbing to you, I encourage you to skip this chapter and pick back up with the next one as we move into OML.

**September 7, 2015**

Chester shifted in his sleep, and behind his closed eyes, the blackness shifted also. He could feel Mike pressed against his front, and his arm over Chester’s waist. He could feel the warm, slow breaths of his best friend against his neck, but he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes open. _He’s here_ was all Chester’s mind could muster before the darkness called him back to sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long it was until he woke again, Mike lips moving against his skin, but still Chester couldn’t manage to open his eyes. 

“You’re hurting… us…”

Chester tried to answer, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Ches…”

Mike’s voice was barely a whisper, and Chester wanted so badly to answer him, but his tongue felt heavy and his mind was fuzzy, and he knew he was in that weird place between asleep and awake. He wasn’t dreaming that Mike was kissing his neck between soft whispers - those things were definitely real - but he knew that Mike _was_ dreaming. 

Still, he couldn’t make himself move away. He tightened the arm around Mike’s body and let himself believe that Mike knew what he was doing, what he was saying. Chester wanted it to be easy. He wanted to tell Mike he loved him and admit he’d been trying to dull the ache in his leg and his heart, come clean and embrace whatever could blossom between them. Instead he nuzzled his face close to Mike’s and felt Mike’s shift until their lips met softly for the briefest moment before Mike’s broken voice whispered, “I love you… so much.”

Chester couldn’t find the strength to answer before the blackness dragged him back to sleep.

*****

The sunlight was peeking its way around the closed drapes in the hotel room when Mike opened his eyes. He was tucked closely into Chester’s body, and though it wasn’t the first time over the years they had awoken this particular way, it felt different to him this morning. He didn’t immediately move from Chester’s embrace, but lay perfectly still, feeling the other man’s steady breathing, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the weight of his arm around his waist and their legs tangled under the sheets. He never woke like this with Anna, their bodies pressed so tightly together it was as though they were trying to merge into one being. 

_I don’t want him to go. I know he needs to. But it’s so hard when he’s away. It’s so far. I wish I knew what to do. What he needed._

Without really meaning to, he turned his cheek into Chester’s shirt, lightly rubbing his face along the warm cotton for a moment, letting his open lips barely caress over the shirt in a poor substitute for a kiss. He felt like his heart was breaking in his chest as he thought about waiting for Chester to wake up, and the conversation they were about to have. Mike had never wanted Chester to sleep in more than he did this morning, if only to avoid bringing up the secret drinking he suspected.

Even though he held carefully still, it wasn’t long before Mike could feel the signs of Chester coming awake next to him. He felt the shift in his breathing, the slight tense to his muscles as he regained control of them. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, knowing he couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer, not with their bodies wrapped so closely together. 

“Morning, Ches,” Mike breathed, carefully extracting his legs from Chester’s as they both moved to untangle themselves. 

“I need coffee,” Chester whined in response, the arm that had been holding Mike close raising to cover his eyes as he rolled over onto his back. “My head hurts.”

Mike felt his stomach drop at Chester’s admission, but he said nothing other than, “want me to order us some?”

Chester raised his arm enough to peer at Mike from under his forearm. “Order? Mike, you never want room service in the morning. Are you feeling alright?”

Mike almost laughed at the irony in Chester’s words. “Me? Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. I just thought, if your head hurts, maybe you’d like to stay in for breakfast. We can just eat here and chat a bit. You haven’t exactly felt like going out lately.” He scrubbed his fingers through his facial hair slowly as he plotted out exactly how to bring up the alcohol he’d smelled on Chester’s breath last night. _Coffee first. Maybe some breakfast. Bacon. And then I’ll tell him. It won’t be awful, I don’t think._

“You just want bacon,” Chester mumbled as he dropped his arm back over his eyes. “I need some Tylenol or something.” His other hand crept up over his stomach, smoothing circles over his pajama shirt. 

“Bacon is always good,” Mike agreed, sitting up and reaching for his glasses. “Do you want something to eat? It might be good after… well, did you eat anything last night?” he asked, watching the vocalist’s hand stroke his stomach.

Chester didn’t say anything for several seconds, until finally, “I wasn’t hungry.”

 _That’s been all the time lately. I’m not hungry. Go on without me, I’ll catch up later. Oh, I ate earlier._ Mike’s worried gaze drifted over Chester’s body before he reached over and tried to lift the arm that was still covering his eyes. “Ches,” he started softly, “you’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

There was no response, and the arm over Chester’s eyes didn’t budge. Mike circled his fingertips over Chester’s elbow and tried again. “You’ve been working out so much, don’t you think you should be eating more? You’ve gotten so thin.” He could hear the anxiety already creeping into his voice and he took a deep breath to try and calm down a little. “You know what sounds good? An omelette. I could order us both one, bacon and onions and cheese, maybe some spinach, what do you say?” he coaxed, his voice still a little rough from sleep even though he was trying to keep it light and smooth.

The mattress jumped as Chester rolled onto his side with a sigh, his arm dropping from his eyes so he could see Mike. “I don’t want an omelette. You can order one if you want. I just want some coffee. And some Tylenol,” he amended. “If you’re ordering room service, I’m staying right here. I’m not getting out of bed until we have to get on the plane.” 

Mike looked down at Chester for a moment before he nodded. “Fine. I’ll order mine, but when it gets here and you’re sad you don’t have one, I’m not sharing.”

Chester let out a bark of a laugh. “Whatever, Mikey, you know you’d never say no to me. If I decided to eat the whole damn thing - which I won’t - you’d let me have it and you know it.”

For a moment, Mike thought about denying it, but they both knew what Chester had said was true. There was nothing Mike wouldn’t give to his best friend, even if it were his last dollar or last bite of food. “I guess I’ll just order a three-egg omelette just in case,” he decided aloud, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and reaching for the hotel room phone to order their coffee and omelette. After pressing the correct button, he scratched over his bare chest and shivered in the air conditioned room as he waited for the restaurant to answer.

Chester was snuggled back under the duvet as Mike moved quietly around the room, tugging a t-shirt over his head before he headed to the bathroom to take care of his morning business. As he washed his hands to pop his contacts in, he looked at his bloodshot eyes and decided he was just going to wear his glasses for the day and give himself a break. Thoughts from the previous night, of laying in bed crying, flooded his mind as he brushed his teeth and dreaded the conversation that was coming. He was so emotionally involved he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold it together or not as he talked to his best friend. 

The last time Chester had gone to rehab it was bad. His nasty divorce from Samantha had lead him first to over drinking, then to over indulging in drugs, until an intervention had been necessary. An ultimatum. It was rehab and get clean, or there wouldn’t be Linkin Park anymore. _It’s not that serious this time. Is it?_ Mike stared at himself in the mirror, stalling before he went back to Chester. He could see the lines of worry around his eyes and his mouth. _This time it’s just alcohol. I think. God, I fucking hope that’s all. I hope I’m saying something before it’s become a bigger problem. I hope he’ll listen to me._

Mike ran his tongue over the front of his teeth as he dried off his toothbrush and zipped it inside his travel bag, flicking his eyes over the cold, clean marble surfaces in the bathroom. He always kept his stuff neatly together when they traveled, so there wasn’t much packing left to be done. Nothing left to do in order to stall. Sighing, he flipped the light off and stepped back into the bedroom.

“You just gonna sleep til the coffee gets here?” Mike asked lightly, walking back to his side of the bed. It was funny how without ever discussing it, he and Chester each had their own side of the bed. They had fallen into the comfortable habit so long ago that Mike couldn’t even remember what it felt like _not_ to sleep with Chester out on the road. It was their comfort, their home away from home. It was so much more than two friends sharing a bed, even though they’d never discussed it. Mike wondered, as he peeled back the duvet to slide back into the warmth between the sheets, if they would ever talk about it, or if they would continue to tour long past the relevancy of the band just to have an excuse to spend the night in each other’s arms.

He shook his head at himself as he turned on his side, reaching to tap Chester on his shoulder. “Ches? I asked if you were gonna sleep til the coffee gets here. Did you hear me?” He watched Chester’s eyes crack open again and regard him with mild annoyance.

“I was going to, but you insist on talking,” Chester complained without malice. “So I’m awake. They need to hurry it up. Don’t they know who we are?”

Mike laughed quietly. “No, they don’t. That’s what fake names are for. We’re just like anyone else right now. Two people who are too lazy to get out of bed to eat and are gonna pay double what it’s worth to have food brought to us. Lazy, and apparently pretentious,” he added with a smile.

“Did you text the guys and tell them we aren’t coming down? You know how Brad is about breakfast,” Chester said, his hand reaching for Mike’s. He laced their fingers together and looked back into Mike’s eyes.

Mike felt the subtle stirring of desire in the pit of his stomach as Chester connected their hands, as he looked into the eyes he loved. It was so hard to be in love with someone he could never have. Just like they never spoke about their sides of the bed, or the fact that they even slept together, there was no conversation about the feelings that simmered under the surface of everything. “No, when the coffee gets here I’ll text Bourdie. He can deal with Brad.”

Chester nodded, his expression troubled as he said, “I hope he doesn’t make it a huge thing. I just don’t want to get up.”

 _There’s a place to start, if I word it right. If I don’t accuse him._ Mike squeezed Chester’s fingers and took the plunge. “You’re not doing as well as you trying to pretend, are you?” Mike saw the twitch in Chester’s lips as his eyebrows furrowed together. _Don’t lie, don’t lie to me, Chester. I’ll know it and you know that I’ll know it,_ he willed silently as he kept his eyes locked into Chester’s.

“I’m fine at the shows,” Chester answered, as though that would be enough. 

Mike pressed his lips together to keep from frowning. “Really? I mean, yeah, you’ve been at the shows, but… some nights it feels like you’re still struggling a bit. And then, the eating, like I said, and you’re not hanging out with us much. You’ve been off on your own a lot, Ches, even away from me. And we always spend time together. We’re _always_ together, but you’ve been pulling away a little. Except for here,” he amended, lifting their hands together to pat the bed gently. “We’re together here, but you’ve been on your own a lot. I’m worried about you,” Mike finished simply, his heart pounding. 

He could see Chester debating with himself, thinking over what he should or shouldn’t say, and Mike waited for a moment before he said, “Chester, you can tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll listen. You’re my best friend. Like you said. I’d let you eat my whole omelette if you wanted it.” He rubbed his thumb in circles over the back of Chester’s hand.

“I know,” Chester agreed so softly Mike almost couldn’t hear him. “You’re too good to me, Mike. I remember what you said, months ago, about me dragging you down. I don’t want to drag you down.” The pain in his eyes was obvious as he looked at Mike, watching as the emcee’s mouth fell open in astonishment. 

“Wait, what?” Mike said, dropping Chester’s hand and feeling their connection break as he struggled to sit up. “I didn’t say that. I _never_ said that. I never said you were dragging me down. What are you talking about?” Chester rolled over onto his back and covered his eyes again with his forearm, and Mike stared at the flames around his wrist as he waited for an explanation. “I didn’t say that,” he insisted as Chester stayed quiet. 

“You did!” Chester exclaimed as he flung his arm away from his eyes that were now red with the start of unshed tears. “In my bedroom, at home, after my surgery, you told me you were down in the pit with me. You _said_ that! You said you could feel it when I was depressed, you said you didn’t know how to lift us back up, and I decided then I wasn’t going to burden you with my shit anymore.” He pulled himself up too, clutching at a pillow as he looked at Mike.

“ _What?_ ” Mike whispered. “Ches, that’s not what I meant. At all. I was trying to tell you that I understood how you were feeling, even though I’ve never struggled with the things you struggle with. I try to go there with you and understand you, I _never_ said you drag me down.” There was a tremble in his voice as he started to understand what had been going on the past few months. Chester had been hiding from him. Pulling away, withdrawing, trying not to concern him. And all that time, Mike had thought he was getting better. 

“I hated that look in your eyes, Mike, all the worry… over me. Just because I’m such a fucking mess that breaking my ankle felt like the end of the fucking world. I can’t even start to tell you all the bullshit that goes on in my head!” Chester flung the pillow down and jumped up from the bed, and then he was pacing back and forth as he rambled in quick words and jumbled thoughts. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me. There’s the kids, and Anna, and you were with me, and I know she hates that. Anna’s my friend too but she resents the time we spend together. Don’t deny it,” Chester said, holding up a hand to silence Mike when he saw him take a breath to protest. “And you were right, my kids were suffering, and Tal, and the band, and I needed to just get over myself and fucking _do_ something, you know? I didn’t want to be that weight on your shoulders, Mike, I… I love you too much. I don’t ever want you to have the shit in your head that I do. I hate feeling out of control, having this voice in my head that tells me how stupid I am for breaking my ankle, and it’s all my fault that we couldn’t tour, and that you all hate me for being so stupid. I know, I know we didn’t miss that many dates, but we did miss some, and I let you guys down and the fans down. It’s always me. I’m always the weak link.” 

“Chester, you know none of that is true,” Mike pleaded, watching as Chester had a meltdown in the hotel room, knowing he couldn’t do anything to stop it until the vocalist had gotten everything out that he needed to say. All the words he’d been holding back from Mike for months. 

“Part of me knows that, Mike! But the other part, it’s there, in my head, every day! I’m not good enough, that’s what it says to me all the time! And I know sometimes that’s true, and other times I can tell it to fuck off. But this time, I didn’t want to hurt you, I didn’t want to worry you. And I thought I could do it on my own, but I can’t! I, I…” 

Chester’s pacing stopped, and he dropped his head into his hands as he swayed on his feet. Instantly Mike was on his feet and around the side of the bed, opening his arms to gather Chester into them. “It’s okay, Ches, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I left you alone, I thought you were better. I thought you were better, and I left you alone.” He rocked Chester against him for a moment before he hugged him tightly and then let go, reaching to pull Chester’s hands from his eyes so he could see them. 

Mike’s fingers circled Chester’s wrists and he tugged gently, feeling the second that Chester gave in and let his hands drop away as he stumbled back into Mike’s arms. “I can’t go home, Mike,” he whispered. “I can’t be without you at night, I… something bad could happen. You’re the only reason it hasn’t.” 

Mike felt his blood run cold as Chester burrowed into him. “What do you mean? Tell me, Chester. Tell me what you mean, and what you need from me.” _Tell me you don’t mean what I think you mean. Tell me we’re gonna be okay._

“I’ve been drinking again, Mike,” Chester whispered, his lips close to Mike’s ear as he clung to Mike’s waist, his hands drifting up Mike’s back. “I started at home, before we left on tour. When the painkillers ran out and I could think again, and I knew how much I’d screwed everything up. At first it was one drink, but then it was more, and now it’s like I can’t stop. I didn’t want you to know. I’ve been trying to stop, but I can’t. And when I drink too much, those voices are there in my head, and all I can think about is just finally being done with this, this _constant fucking battle,_ just letting go. And the only thing that stops me is knowing you’re coming back, that you’ll be coming back to our room, to our bed, and I could never do that to you, Mikey. I never want to hurt you like that. And I’m scared that I might. I’m scared I won’t know what I’m doing.”

Mike could feel the hot tears against his neck as Chester buried his head in shame. It was worse than he’d even thought, he’d never thought Chester was thinking of taking his own life again. Mike felt the bile rise in his throat at the thought of walking into the hotel room some night and finding his best friend. He couldn’t even finish the thought, it was too terrifying, and he lifted a hand to the back of Chester’s neck, shushing his tears and he stroked over his shaven head silently. 

“Ches,” he said tentatively, his arms around his friend, “I don’t think I can give you what you need. Clearly I haven’t been. And it scares me. I don’t think you know how much it scares me, to think that you’ve been here alone these nights, thinking about ending it all. It would destroy me, do you know that? I don’t think I could go on without you.” He kissed Chester’s temple, then his cheek before he leaned back to catch the vocalist’s eyes. “Don’t you ever do that to me, do you hear me? Don’t you ever leave me behind,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll help share your burden, Chester, but I can’t fix it. God knows I’ve tried. But I think we need more help than I can give us.”

They were both silent then, looking at each other, each of them knowing exactly what Mike was saying without the words being spoken aloud. Mike saw the moment of resignation, of acceptance in Chester’s eyes, and he simply nodded, pulling Chester back in close to him as he reassured, “I’ll take you if you want. I’ll go to Utah with you if you want me to. You know I’ll be there as much as they will let me.”

“I’ll miss you,” Chester sniffled into Mike’s shirt, his forehead resting on Mike’s shoulder. “Will you help me talk to Tal? She’ll be so disappointed.” Mike felt the shudder move through Chester’s body as he thought of his wife. He could picture her sweet and patient face, and Mike knew disappointment wouldn’t be the overriding emotion. 

“She’ll be relieved you want to get help, she won’t be disappointed. Just like me… I’m so relieved you told me. I’m relieved we’re going to get you help. I’ll miss the hell out of you, too, but you need to get better. And it’s not just the drinking, and you know that. If you need meds, if you need to talk to people, whatever you need, Ches… we all just want you to be better. Feel better. That’s all that matters.” Mike rubbed his hands over Chester’s back as they stood next to the bed. “I’ll do whatever it takes, just don’t hide things from me anymore. Please,” he begged softly, right as there was a knock at the door.

“There’s your omelette,” Chester offered, sniffing as he pulled from Mike’s embrace and turned to sit gingerly on the side of the bed. “And my coffee.”

Mike looked down at Chester for a moment before he turned to the door, opening it and accepting the room service tray quickly. He sat it down on the table and picked up the two coffee mugs before he went and sat down next to Chester, handing one off to him. They sipped in silence for a moment before Mike carefully put his left hand on Chester’s knee and squeezed it gently. “It’s going to be okay. And, and… I love you, too,” he managed to get out, finally responding to Chester’s same declaration from earlier. Words he’d said hundreds of times before, but never quite in this way. “I love you too much to let you keep hurting,” Mike clarified, his voice a little stronger. “We’ll get through this, and we’ll be better when it’s over.”

Chester sighed, his head coming down to rest on Mike’s shoulder as they sat side by side. “I hope so. I just don’t understand why everything has to feel so heavy,” he said, closing his eyes.

Mike didn’t say anything as his throat closed with emotion, just forced another sip of his coffee as he watched Chester cover his hand with his own, entwining their fingers again. “I don’t know, Ches… but we’re gonna get you some help. Just keep holding on.”

**End of Part Four: The Hunting Party**


	37. Part Five: OML -- The Notebook

**March 11, 2016**

Brad looked up from the couch, his eyes zeroing in on Mike behind the console in his home studio. They’d been at it for hours, but only had bits and pieces of demos in the works, and Mike looked frustrated. He paused his noodling around on the guitar and asked, “you want to stop for today?” He watched Mike suck in a deep breath before he shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know. It’s so much harder without him.” Another click of the controls and Mike spun around slowly in his desk chair. “I feel off my game. I don’t know if I’m doing his words justice. I don’t know if this is how he felt when he wrote them. It’s just… hard. I miss him.” 

Mike’s eyes dropped to the floor between them and he reached to cup his hand behind his neck, running it up over the back of his hair before he slid it back down and sighed, thinking over the last several months. Nothing had gone the way he’d imagined it at the end of the last tour. The plan had been to get home, get Chester into rehab, and six to eight weeks later everything would be fine. They’d spend the holidays together and start working on the album, and it would be ready to release in 2016 and they’d be back out on the road, where Mike could see and talk and touch Chester everyday.

But now it was already almost Chester’s birthday, and they’d barely spent a few weeks together at Christmas before the vocalist had decided to check himself into a different inpatient facility. It wasn’t rehab, it was a clinic that specialized in depression, and that in itself had Mike more anxious than usual. He’d only been allowed to visit Chester once even though he was so much closer to home, and the worry was eating Mike up inside. 

“I just miss him,” he said again, his chin down at his chest, his shoulders sagged in defeat. 

There was a heavy silence hanging in the air before Brad said, “I know you do. But we all know that he needed this. And, honestly…” Brad looked down at his socked foot, digging his toe into the plushness of the carpet. “I think time apart is good for both of you.” 

“Maybe…” Mike answered, his voice drifting off as he looked over at the empty vocal booth. It wasn’t as though he’d never written without Chester before, laid a bass line with only Dave or worked tracks and melodies with only Brad, or made beats with only Rob or Joe. Somehow it all felt different. The days stretched longer, the time between when he’d walked away from Chester in Malibu and Now a never ending loop of loneliness.

Brad laid his guitar on the couch and stood up, stretching his arms over his head as he looked down at Mike. “He’s doing better, right? How was he when you went out there?”

Mike’s eyes skimmed over the black notebook on his desk and he swallowed before he answered. “He’s struggling still, but I don’t think it’s just with the drinking. I think there’s a lot going on in his head right now. I think it’s all more than just alcohol, he’s almost forty, and he’s never really tried any therapy before… it’s hard on him, right now, trying to make sense of it all. Breaking his ankle was just a catalyst. It’s all been a mess since then, and I think he’s getting better but then I’m not sure,” Mike rambled, shaking his head, “and not being able to talk to him every day, it’s driving me crazy.”

Brad took the few steps over to the door that lead to the studio balcony, peering through the blinds at the back garden. “Just imagine that you’re home from tour. You don’t talk to him every day when we aren’t on the road, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, Brad pressed his forehead against the glass. “That’s probably a stupid question. I know you do. But, maybe you need to take Anna and the kids and get out of here for a while. Take a vacation. Get your mind off things. It’s not like we’re in any hurry to write this album. I don’t even know that there’s a clear direction on it, yet.”

In Mike’s head there was already a clear direction. Everything he’d come up with so far seemed to be a stripped down, raw and honest look into Chester’s thoughts, into the darkness in his head. He wasn’t sure how it would all come together in the end, but the lyrics he was piecing together were about as real life as they could come right now, and it seemed like the right path to follow given the circumstances. 

“I know that there won’t be anything for sure until he’s back,” Mike said tentatively, before Brad cut him off.

“And when’s that gonna be? Any ideas?” 

Mike shook his head. “No idea. I haven’t asked Tal, but I’m not sure she’d know either. I guess he’ll come home when he’s ready.” He stood up and pushed his chair to the side, running his fingers gently and quickly over the notebook cover. “I just wish I could do something. I feel completely useless right now.”

Brad turned away from the window and fixed his eyes steadily on Mike. “You tried, Mike. You did everything you could, and then it was time for professionals. You are not responsible for him.”

“That’s nice, after all the times you’ve made me feel like shit for not taking care of him.” Mike forced his hands to stay relaxed and not ball into fists from frustration as he met Brad’s stare.

“You know that’s not how I meant it. I just… you… you know how he is, Mike. He only listens to you. So it only makes sense for you to be the one to keep an eye on him. And you’re with him more than the rest of the guys. It was just natural.” Brad shrugged and didn’t look away, analyzing Mike’s reactions and his body language.

“I wish I could have done more. I wish I could be there now, talk to him. It just-” Mike stopped, the word “hurts” on the tip of his tongue before he let out a shaky sigh and breathed, “it just isn’t fair.” There was no need to let Brad know how the silence was tearing him into tiny bits, no matter whether the silence between him and Chester was by choice or by force. Mike hoped fervently the communication freeze was the decision of Chester’s therapist and not his own. 

The impossibly sad droop to Mike’s lips and the far away look in his eyes told Brad everything he needed to know. “Let’s put it away for today,” he said gently, reaching for the abandoned guitar. “There’s no need to rush anything. Go play with the kids, go paint, do something.” He placed the guitar in the rack and started for the studio door. “Just don’t stay in here.” 

“I’ll come down with you,” Mike agreed, knowing full well he’d be back in the studio as soon as Brad headed home. Brad knew it too, but he didn’t say anything else as they descended the stairs.

“We’re still on down at the big studio tomorrow, right?” Brad asked, his hand on the doorknob and one foot already out the front door before he remembered to ask.

“Yeah, I’m good for tomorrow. The one we were working on, _Invisible_ , I want to get the demo verse laid tomorrow and see what else we can come up with. I want something ready when Chester gets back,” Mike said, thinking through the mostly complete lyrics. We’ve got enough material for a few hours in the studio.”

“Sounds like a plan. Get some rest, okay?” Brad looked at Mike one more time and then he was gone, and Mike was shutting the door to a chorus of little voices demanding his attention. 

“Papa! Papa! Come outside and play soccer with us!” Otis cried from the hallway, the ball tucked under his arm and safely away from his small sisters who were also calling for Mike to join them.

“Let’s go before it gets too dark,” Mike agreed easily, his eyes only flicking briefly to the stairs and the promise of the studio above him. _He’s not there anyway. And it’s been far too long since I kicked the ball around._ He scooped Josie up and slung her onto his shoulders, grinning at her delighted squeals. “Anna! We’re going out back!” he called, making sure his wife could hear him.

“You’ve got all of them?” was her response from the kitchen. 

“Yeah!” he called back, following Otis and Abi through the hallway toward the back door. “Just call us about ten minutes before dinner, so I can get them cleaned up!”

“Okay!” Anna shouted back, brushing her hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand. She smiled in the direction of the back yard, the tall walls covered in sprawling ivy and the sun glittering on the water in the pool. She watched Otis run past the window, saw Abi kick the ball with her small foot, then Mike following behind with Josie screeching as she bounced up and down. It was good to see Mike smiling and out of the studio. Even if it wouldn’t last.

She looked down as she turned the chicken that was browning in the pan, her smile fading. Mike would have dinner with the family, and he would take his turn giving baths and reading bedtime stories, but then he would disappear back into the studio until he exhausted himself enough to come to bed. More often than not she was already asleep by the time he made it to their room, but despite his best efforts, he usually managed to rouse her… if not when he came to bed, but when he started talking to Chester in his sleep.

Ever since Chester had been unaccessible, she’d listened to half mumbled conversations with him from the depths of Mike’s sleep. Most of it was indistinguishable, words that were disconnected from sentences or context, and she didn’t give too much thought to what Mike could be dreaming about. She knew he was struggling with Chester’s absence and tried not to worry about it too much, even though now there were almost nightly conversations between the two, where those occasions had once been few and far between.

Mike’s voice was muffled as it carried into the kitchen, but Anna could hear the happiness as he called out to the children. She wanted to bottle up that sound and tuck it away, bring it out when Mike seemed distant, when she knew his mind was far away. The chicken was browned to perfection as she lifted it from the skillet with tongs and placed it in the baking dish, adding the vegetables and sauce around it before popping it in the oven. After setting the timer for thirty minutes, she made her way over to the window, watching Mike with Josie still on his shoulders team up against Abi and Otis. She stood, mesmerized, until one of the dogs scurried into the kitchen, looking for food, and with a sigh, she dutifully went to fill the bowls, her mind picking through more thoughts of Mike and Chester as she worked.

**********

Once everyone was in bed - even Anna - Mike finally stepped back into the studio that night. He slipped on his headphones and played back his work with Brad that afternoon, cutting bits of the track and saving things to different files so he could easily find it the next day, and by the time he glanced at his watch, it was past midnight. It always seemed to be past midnight before he was tired enough to get a few hours sleep. 

He double checked his work before he pushed a hand through his hair, waiting for the computer to shut down before he went to bed. As he waited, his eyes landed on Chester’s notebook and he reached for it, gingerly picking it up as he glanced toward the studio door.

_Can’t believe I left this out. Not that Anna would come in here. But still. That’s so careless. That’s like leaving sketchbooks lying around. You can’t be so careless, Mike._ He frowned while mentally chastising himself, flipping the front cover to the only written communication he’d had from Chester in months. He felt the familiar swell of emotion as he read Chester’s words, his heart aching from missing his friend so much. 

Nothing about the situation they were in was ideal, and Mike decided it was even more deplorable that he felt so sorry for himself in the whole thing. What about Talinda, what about the kids? Mike wasn’t the only one suffering, and he had to remind himself of that almost hourly. He knew Chester wouldn’t be gone for so long unless the therapy was helping, and Mike could only pray that when he came home, things would be better, that it all would click back into place as though they’d never been apart.

The day the notebook had arrived, Mike had been out of his mind with a mixture of boredom and worry, and the small package had been the most welcome relief at the time. Anything that brought Chester closer to him, even if it was just a hastily scribbled note and a journal, took the edge off Mike’s desperation. 

_Mike,_

_The one thing they let me do while I’m in here is write. So I’m mailing you this notebook I’ve filled with bits and pieces of thoughts, and lyrics, and dreams and nonsense. Somehow I’m managing to keep the doctors out of it, citing it as work related, so now I feel obligated to send it off to you so they won’t try to get to this place inside my head. I don’t care if you’re inside this place in my head. It’s your place. You’ve always been inside my head._

_Do you remember when I first came to LA? I never told you, but the minute I met you, leaving Sam behind didn’t matter to me anymore. I could have never seen her again, and it wouldn’t have made any difference to my life. I knew we were going to make it. I would have thrown myself into the fire for you, for any of you guys, after only that first day. You made me want to be the best version of myself. I guess that’s why I’m here now. You know?_

_I miss you. I miss talking to you, but you’re probably relieved to get a break from it all. At least you never look at me the way these doctors do. Some look at me like they pity me, and others don’t understand. They think I should have it all together because I’m Chester Fucking Bennington, you know? They don’t know me like you do. They don’t understand that one moment the world is at your feet and the next you’re taking out the trash. One moment you’re laying in bed telling your dreams to your best friend and the next you’re alone, so hopelessly alone that it seems like that conversation, that closeness, was never really there. You know? You know. You’re the only person who knows. I wonder if you were here if you would tell me if it’s really there._

_I’ve filled this entire notebook and we probably won’t use any of it, but I want you to have it. I need you to have it. I know you’re working without me. I know you can’t sit still and wait for me that long. I promised you I’d only come back when I was better, and I’m working hard on it, and all of these scribbles in this notebook are part of that process. I just need to get it out of my head. And there’s nobody else who understands. Just you. It’s always been you._

_Take my words and make something out of them like you always do._

_-C_

Mike stared down at Chester’s familiar scrawl and the note he’d committed to memory for a few moments before he tucked it back inside the cover of the notebook, then opened it to the middle. It was an earmarked page with notes penned to Mike after one of his visits to the rehab facility Chester was in, a page the vocalist had covered in broken sentences and descriptors, doodles in the margins, thoughts Mike couldn’t follow no matter how many times he’d read over them. He only knew that page had been filled after he’d been to Utah because the first thing on the page, in the upper left, were two lines: _you tell me it’s alright, you tell me I’m forgiven tonight_.

The image of Chester sitting outside in the sunlight as Mike held his hand and told him things would be okay was burned into his memory, and he knew without a doubt those two lines were about him. He stared down at the page until the room suddenly became quieter, and then looked up to see that the computer had shut off. _I wish I could go to him now. Malibu is so close, but they won’t let me go. Or he won’t let me. I hope it’s not him. I hope whatever he’s doing is working. I need it to work faster._

Mike opened the drawer he kept lyrics in and put Chester’s notebook inside, carefully closing it before he stood up and rolled his neck in a slow circle, trying to relieve the tension. _If Chester were here he’d be rubbing my neck for me. He always knows when I’m stressed. But if he were here I’d be less stressed. So maybe he wouldn’t be. I need to go to bed. I’m not even making sense anymore._

He flipped off the light and shut the door, made his way across the dark playroom and stopped outside Otis’ door, peeking his head inside to check on his son. The nightlight was on and the blanket pulled tight around his face, just his nose and mouth poking through. Mike smiled and carefully went to pull the sheets and blanket away from Otis’ sweaty head, running his palm over his little boy’s forehead and smoothing the dark hair back before tucking the blanket under his chin. At Abi’s door he paused and watched her small chest rise and fall in gentle breaths, her face chubby and peaceful in sleep, and in Josie’s room he silently untangled her feet from the blankets and pulled them back up to cover her tiny body, knowing by morning she would have kicked them off again. 

At his own bedside he stopped to lay his watch and his phone on the night stand, then pull his t-shirt over his head by the back of the neck and toss it on top of his phone before he pulled back the sheets on his side of the bed. He could hear the even inhale and exhale of Anna’s sleeping breaths as he pulled the duvet up under his chin and turned his back to her, stuffing his arm up under the pillow and trying not to think about distant hotel rooms and Chester’s light snores. He fell asleep with disjointed words from Chester’s notebook swirling in his head, his tired mind trying to make sense out of what Chester was trying to tell him. He didn’t know that hours later, Anna woke to hear him talking to Chester, and the next morning he wouldn’t remember dreaming that when they were finally together again, their reunion was colored with warm embraces and timid kisses.


	38. Part Five: OML -- X

**April 1, 2016**

When Chester returned home, it was to much less pomp and circumstance than Mike thought he deserved. Mike wanted to scream from the rooftops, throw a parade, have a party in honor of his best friend coming back, but the day passed quietly; a tender reunion with family, a soft spoken phone call to Mike, and a quick group text message to the band.

Mike was climbing the walls with suppressed anticipation, and his fidgeting hands finally drove Anna to banish him upstairs to the studio instead of forcing them all to suffer through his distraction during dinner. He spent the hours waiting for Chester to call working in ProTools, aligning demos and looping beats, preparing the past few months’ work for Chester’s inevitable return to the studio. Every so often he would look at his watch, surprised when the time had passed quickly, though it felt as if it were crawling.

At a little past seven he picked up his phone and looked for the hundredth time at Chester’s eleven a.m. message from that morning. _Coming home today. I’ll call you when I can._ Mike sighed, frustrated and impatient, as he put the phone back down next to his keyboard. _I won’t even get to talk to him long, I’m sure. The kids have missed him. Talinda. God, Talinda. I don’t know how she’s kept it together without him, when I’ve been such a mess._

Mike paused, looking at the computer screen as he mulled things over. He and Chester had been separated almost three months. Three long, agonizing months of radio silence, save for that notebook. _At least I had that. I don’t know if I could have kept myself from going to him if he hadn’t sent that to me._ His gaze shifted from the screen to the notebook next to it and back again. _I’ve got every word memorized at this point. I’ve made songs and I have no idea what he’ll say. If he’ll even want to use any of it. What if he hates it all? What if I totally missed the mark? Or… if he’s not in that place anymore, and doesn’t want to be reminded of it?_

He shook his head. _If that were the case, he’d never be able to sing anything off our first three albums anymore. Or anything, ever. It’s all so… personal. Every one of our songs is his story. My story. Our story. It’s our whole history._

Mike glanced down the list of working song titles, pulled from Chester’s own words scrawled in the notebook. So much had been done without the vocalist, and it felt strange. _It’s like I’m handing him a completed album and all he has to do is come in and sing._

The jingle of his phone jarred him from his thoughts and he fumbled with it clumsily in his excitement, almost dropping it before swiping right and breathlessly saying into the phone, “Chester!”

There was a small chuckle on the other end of the line and then, “Mikey! God, it’s good to hear your voice.” 

The smile on Mike’s face was so wide it hurt as he spun around in his desk chair and leapt up, crossing the room to the windows he’d started blankly out of so many times while Chester was in rehab. “I don’t think we’ve _ever_ been so long without talking to each other,” Mike started, his voice on a higher pitch than normal as he babbled excitedly. “We’ve got so much to talk about, when can I see you? Oh, God, you’ve got to come over and listen to the demos, that notebook you sent me? I’ve been writing songs and me and Brad got some of them started, and I’m dying to know what you think! We should have coffee, and breakfast, and the guys will be so happy you’re home, Chester, we’ve missed you!” Mike’s words came to an abrupt stop as he realized the other side of the call was silent, and he rushed to say, “Ches? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Chester replied. There was a beat of silence before he said, “I’ll send the guys a text, but I want to see you first. I… you really have songs ready?” 

It wasn’t hard to heard the tone of apprehension in Chester’s voice. “Well, you know… not _ready_. They’re never ready until we’ve all touched them,” Mike said carefully, his excitement waning a little. “I just meant that I’ve got stuff I want you to hear. But I know there’s stuff to talk about other than work.” He waited, and when Chester didn’t reply, he went on, “if you’re ready. I’m always here to listen, when you’re ready. Or if you’re never ready,” he was sure to add.

“I want to see you,” Chester affirmed, cautiously happy tones back in his voice. “Let’s do coffee, at least, tomorrow. Let me dip my toe back into the real world before I jump in,” he offered.

“Sure, yeah, your pace,” Mike agreed. _Stupid, you’re so stupid, thinking he’s ready to just get back in here like nothing’s happened._ “Sorry, I got a little carried away. I’m just so glad to have you back.” Mike leaned his forehead on the glass and closed his eyes, his phone clutched in the hand that wasn’t flat against the window. “I’ve missed you, Ches. It’s been hell, wondering how you’ve been. Wishing I could be there, that I could do or say something to help… I’ve been working to keep myself from being sick with worry,” he admitted, his voice dropping with embarrassment. “When you texted this morning I was so fucking happy, the happiest I’ve been since those weeks at Christmas.”

Chester’s sigh came through the phone loud and clear. “I _wanted_ to talk to you,” he said, “but my therapist thought it would be better if I tried to work through things without… your influence.” Mike held his breath, waiting for Chester to go on, but he wasn’t going to give up any more information tonight. “I’ll talk with you about it tomorrow, Mikey, okay? I have so much to tell you. And I want to hear the songs, or at least read the lyrics, whatever you’ve got. We can do that tomorrow, too,” he promised. “But coffee first. Our spot, eight o’clock?”

“Absolutely.” Mike opened his eyes and looked at the reflection of the sky in the swimming pool below, the surface utterly smooth like glass. Not turbulent. At peace. “I’m so glad you’re home, Chester.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Chester answered, and then Mike was left holding the phone, looking outside and listening to the silence on the other end. 

_It’s been months. I can make it twelve more hours,_ he thought as he slipped his phone into his pocket. _I should go help with bedtime. And then I can sleep, and then it will be tomorrow. I’ve missed him so much._ Mike flipped off the studio light without shutting down the computer or putting away the notebook, and headed down the hallway toward the sound of bedtime stories being read.

It wasn’t hard to read the surprise in Anna’s eyes when he walked into Otis’ room, but she didn’t miss a word as she kept reading. Mike flopped down on the bed behind her, snuggled his son close and listened to her clever voices as she read the story with Abi and Josie on either side of her. He reached and ran his fingers through her hair and down the back of her neck, and felt her shiver under his touch. It had been weeks since they had been intimate. _I actually can’t think of the last time we had sex. That’s probably not good. In fact, I know it’s not good. And it really doesn’t matter what the reason is…_

“Papa?”

Mike blinked away from his thoughts and looked down at Josie, who was twisted around to look up at him on the bed. “Yes, baby?”

“Will you carry me to bed?” Her voice was slow and drowsy, her half closed eyes managing somehow to plead with him, and Mike gave in instantly. 

“How about a piggy back ride?” he answered, and immediately Abi jumped up from Anna’s side. 

“Oh, me too, Papa!” Abi exclaimed, clapping her hands together. 

Mike glanced quickly at Anna, and encouraged by her warm smile, declared, “one turn each, straight to bed!” He rolled off the bed and Abi climbed up in his place to latch onto his back, and for the next ten minutes he paraded each of his children through the upstairs, enjoying the shrieks and giggles from his girls before he dumped them ceremoniously into their beds and covered them in kisses. 

“You love to get them all riled up before bed, don’t you?” Anna asked from the door to Otis’ room as Mike cupped a hand over his son’s hair and kissed his forehead.

He turned to see an indulgent smile on her face, and he winked at her in return. “Sorry. I’m just in a good mood,” he said as he walked toward her, then “good night, O.” Anna flipped the light switch off as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into the hallway with him. 

“You finally get to talk to Chester, then?” Anna asked, and even though her voice was carefully neutral, Mike felt a nervous twist to his stomach.

 _I don’t want to fight about this,_ he thought, freezing in place for a moment as Anna leaned against him. “Yeah, just for a minute. We’re gonna meet up for coffee in the morning. He sounds… he sounds good, Anna.” He leaned his cheek to rest on top of her head, closing his eyes as happy thoughts of hugging Chester in the morning flooded his mind. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Anna ran her hands down Mike’s back and kissed his neck. “You haven’t been the same the past few months. I’ve missed you.” 

“I know,” he said quietly. “I was thinking about that earlier, actually… I know I’ve been out of sorts. You’ve been patient with me, though. Thanks for letting me work, and stuff…” They moved down the hallway toward their bedroom, their steps in sync as they held onto each other. “What would you think about calling it a night and watching a movie together in bed?” he asked, even though he wasn’t sure he would even be able to focus on a movie.

He felt, more than heard, the pause before Anna agreed. “That sounds nice.” She looked up at him to see his eyes flick in the direction of the studio, and swallowing her disappointment in her ongoing quest to be supportive, offered, “unless you have work you’d rather finish up.” 

“I’m good,” Mike said, even though he stopped and turned back toward the studio. “Just let me go shut down the computer. I left it on. You pick out a movie, and I’ll be there in five minutes. And if I’m not,” he added, noting the skeptical look on her face, “you totally have my permission to come in there and drag me out, okay?”

“It’s a deal.” 

Ten minutes later, Anna was snuggled to his side under the blankets, and thirty minutes later, Mike was soundly asleep.

 _So Chester coming home is what it takes for him to fall asleep,_ Anna thought as she recognized the slower, deeper patterns to Mike’s breaths. She leaned back to look at his face, at his neatly trimmed facial hair and the small lines in the corners of his eyes, the way his hair was falling softly to the side and his lips were parted slightly. The way he looked at that moment, he seemed peaceful… but Anna knew it would only be a matter of hours before he was deep enough in sleep to dream, to talk to Chester. _Maybe, now that he’s home, that will let up a little. I don’t think Mike’s had a restful night of sleep in months._ She reached for the lamp, clicking it off first and then flipping off the television, veiling them in darkness. 

It was the first night since Christmas that Mike didn’t call for Chester in his sleep. 

That the timing coincided with Chester coming home didn’t escape Anna’s notice. 

**********

The next morning, when Mike opened the door to the coffee shop, the first thing that hit him was the rich smell of the dark roast house blend Chester loved so much.

The second thing that hit him was Chester’s body, a flash of arms and laughter as he was swept into a crushing hug from the side, a quick press of Chester’s lips to his cheek as they stumbled a few steps inside. 

Mike wrapped his arms around Chester in return, pulling the vocalist tight against him, squeezing him playfully as he laughed and said, “damn, I missed you!” He felt Chester’s hands smoothing over his back for just a moment before he pulled back, and their eyes locked. Chester’s were bright and full of excitement and Mike grinned, teeth gleaming and eyes crinkled in happiness.

“Fuck, I’m glad to be home!” Chester exclaimed, patting his hands over Mike’s shoulders as he stepped back. “You have no idea, Shinoda, it’s been-”

“Awful,” Mike supplied, shaking his head even though he was still flashing a huge smile. “What do you mean “I have no idea?” You don’t think I missed your crazy ass?” He glanced over at the counter and then back at Chester. “How do you not already have coffee in your hand? Did you just walk in?”

“I didn’t want to spill coffee all over you when I saw you. I was too excited! I just knew I’d do something dumb and trip over my own feet and burn your arm or something. I was being _cautious_ ,” Chester retorted proudly. “I thought you’d like that.”

“Any time you’re not getting yourself hurt, I like it,” Mike agreed, motioning to the barista. “Go on, I don’t want to keep you from your caffeine.” He watched as Chester practically danced to the counter, his hips swaying and his skinny jeans clinging to his legs. Without a moment’s thought, Mike’s eyes slid up Chester’s narrow waist, then took in the new broadness of his shoulders. _Fuck. He looks ripped. When did that happen?_

“Mike!” Chester yelled over his shoulder. “I got yours- oh, sorry.” He dropped his voice instantly when he saw Mike had followed him to the counter. “Didn’t know you were right behind me.” 

“Where else would I be?” Mike tossed back. He couldn’t get close enough. He felt pounds lighter, as though Chester being in the same room had lifted weights from his shoulders. _He looks good. He sounds good. He’s happier, I can tell. God, I hope this is what he needed. I hope this is a good sign. I hope we’re on the right path now._ If someone had asked, Mike couldn’t have explained the way he was feeling, but having Chester back with him was like having sunlight back after living in darkness for months… like returning to warmth after being lost in the cold. His heart was so full and happy at the moment that nothing else could enter his head. Nothing else mattered but Chester, standing with his back to Mike, buying coffee like he hadn’t been gone for three months. _He’s been gone for three months._

After he paid for their coffee, Chester turned and caught Mike’s stare, and he went right to his best friend, dropping an arm over Mike’s shoulders. “C’mon. We have so much to catch up on,” he whispered in Mike’s ear as he lead him to their favorite booth in the corner. “You’ve gotta tell me everything I missed.”

They settled into the booth, Chester with his back against the wall and his legs stretched over the bench, Mike across the table from him as they sipped coffee and the pieces of the last three months slowly fell into place as they talked. Mike had already been over what the guys had been up to and how the kids and Talinda were doing when he looked up to see Chester’s coffee colored eyes assessing him silently. “What?” he asked quietly, his skin prickling with warmth under his friend’s gaze.

“But what about you? Are you okay? I mean… I know when I left it was somewhat unexpected. What… what did you do while I was gone?” There was genuine curiosity in Chester’s eyes, as though he couldn’t imagine Mike having anything else to fill the empty time with when he wasn’t around. 

“Do you think I don’t have a life outside of you, Ches?” Mike tried to tease before he dropped his eyes to the top of his coffee cup. It had come out a little harsher than he intended, and he felt his cheeks heating up as he thought about how miserable he had been without his best friend.

“That’s not what I meant,” Chester huffed, his tone a little embarrassed. “I just… well, we’re always together, Mikey. Writing, laying tracks, I don’t know… but I guess you were working, even with me being gone. You said you and Brad had some stuff ready…”

“Not really _ready_ ,” Mike clarified. “Some rough ideas. Sketches. I… I did what you said and I took your words and tried to make something of them. But it’s so much harder without you. It’s like… it’s almost like I’m dependent on you, now,” he admitted. “It doesn’t feel right when I’m writing without you… it’s like… it’s like I don’t know who I am when you’re not around.” He heard Chester’s sharp intake of air, not loud enough to really be called a gasp, but forceful enough to pull Mike’s eyes back up to look at the vocalist quickly.

Chester shook his head as he exhaled, a bemused smile on his lips. “Right. That’s right! That’s exactly it, Mikey. You and I, we’re like one person sometimes. A lot of the time, anyway, and… I don’t know. Maybe the time we spent apart was good for us. Taught us something.” He watched as his words sunk in to Mike’s thoughts.

“All I know is I didn’t feel right without you around,” Mike said simply. “Nothing was right. Even when I was writing, nothing made sense until I got your notebook, and then it started clicking. And… I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t understand why you couldn’t talk to us. Any of us, not even Tal. Why did you pick a place like that, Ches?” He wasn’t trying to be accusatory, but he was intensely curious about the whole thing. “What brought it on? Things seemed okay at Christmas.”

With a sigh, Chester leaned his head back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes, thinking things over before he spoke. “I needed to get my thoughts cleaned out. I just… the broken ankle was just the beginning. Getting off the alcohol, that wasn’t nearly as hard as dealing with all the _shit_ in my head. I know I let you guys and the fans down, and you can tell me one hundred million times it was an accident and it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t matter. Logic doesn’t matter. Everything I did lead me down this negative road, and when the alcohol was gone and I was thinking clearer I didn’t like my thoughts. And, I just needed, I don’t know. Time with Chester. I needed time with myself, to see if I could figure out why I’m such a fucking disaster.”

“You’re not a disaster, Chester. You’re complicated, but that’s one of the things I love about you. You are far from a disaster.” Mike took a long sip of his coffee and Chester sighed again, frustrated as he tried to put his jumbled thoughts in order.

“I don’t know how to explain it other than to say, I didn’t want to have to pretend to be okay when I wasn’t. Not to you, or Tal, or anyone, really. I wanted to be in control of myself and I wasn’t, and I didn’t want there to be anything standing in the way of me figuring out what was making me so unhappy. I mean, that was the whole point of me choosing that particular place. It was like a Chester relationship reset button, and I went after it totally cold turkey. The idea of not talking to anyone, not letting anyone I love influence my decisions or what I was thinking, it was scary. But I needed that. Some time, some perspective. I mean, I’ve got a great life, Mike. There’s no reason to not love what I have… but to feel so empty, so apathetic about everything… I knew something had to change. I can’t just… keep chasing some unknown thing. That thing just out of reach. Whatever I’ve chasing, I’ve got to stop. What I have needs to be enough.”

Trying to follow Chester’s thoughts was somewhat confusing and Mike was hanging on every word, not realizing how tightly he was clutching his coffee until he looked down to see his knuckles turning white. Forcing himself to relax, to just _listen_ , he nodded slowly and glanced up just as Chester lifted his feet from the bench and swung his legs down, turning to face Mike earnestly. 

“While I was there I realized that for as long as I’ve been able to make “my own” decisions,” Chester used his fingers for air quotations, “I’ve never been autonomous. I’ve never _actually_ made a decision on my own. I was fifteen and Sean was making the decisions. I was twenty-one and Sam was calling the shots. I was twenty-four and there was you.” Chester looked up quickly and then away as Mike started to protest.

“No, listen,” Chester rushed on. “I’ve always had someone else to make the tough calls, or someone else to blame when it didn’t work out. I’ve had someone to lift me up and carry me.” His dark eyes zeroed in on Mike’s again, and they both knew Chester was talking about Mike. It wasn’t necessary to spell it out to the detail. “I’ve never known myself, Mike. I’ve never sat down with just my own thoughts and wondered, what decision would I make, if I was the only person that decision impacted? If I wasn’t thinking about the guys in the band, or Tal, or you? My kids? What would I really, truly do if I were the one calling the shots? And you know, for the entire first month I was there, I couldn’t strip it bare, I couldn’t get down to just me. I couldn’t pull back everything else and just think about _me_ , and what _I_ want. Have you ever tried to find your base self, Mike? Do you know who you are when you aren’t wearing the hat of husband, dad, friend, bandmate?” 

Mike couldn’t look away as Chester breathlessly tried to explain what had prompted their three month separation. It was way deeper than he’d ever imagined, and no, Mike really couldn’t say who he was when he dug underneath all those exteriors. “I don’t know, Ches. I’ve never thought about it. I mean, I feel like who I am is who you see. I feel like all that - those Mikes you’re talking about - they’re all me. Different facets of me, but still me. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt… like who everyone sees and who I am inside are two different things.” _Except for when it comes to the way I feel about you. Nobody can ever know that I’m in love with you, Ches. Underneath everything, if I could make any choice right now, I’d choose you._

Mike felt the air catch in his lungs as that thought crashed through him, followed immediately by a similarly paralyzing thought, an epiphany. _Surely, he’s not… he can’t be… talking about us. He’s not chasing me. I’m not chasing him. None of this is about the two of us. Stop making into something it’s not._ He reached his hand across the table and cupped it over Chester’s forearm anyway, his thumb sliding gently along the outline of one curvy red and blue flame. “I think I get what you mean, though, Ches. Your whole life you’ve ridden the wave. You wanted to see what it was like to control the wave a little bit.” 

Chester contemplated that for a moment, watching Mike’s hand on his arm. “Maybe,” he conceded, a certain level of dissatisfaction in his voice. “All I know is, it took me weeks to stop thinking, ‘what would Mike do? What would Mike say?’ That’s part of why I was gone for so long, trying to make sense of things. I couldn’t stop talking to you like you were there.” Chester kept his eyes down but he could feel Mike burning holes into his skin with his stare. “That’s mostly why I wrote in the notebook. I had to get you out of my head. You mentioned using some of that stuff in your lyrics... did you… did any of it make any sense to you?”

“Of course it did!” Mike exclaimed incredulously. “It’s not some of the lyrics, it’s most of the lyrics. I may have smashed it together the way I always do, but the words are all yours, Chester. Every bit of what you were going through, it’s in those songs. And, I… I don’t know. I don’t know if you’ll like it or think it’s all shit. But it was the only thing I could do.” He slowly pulled his hand back, and looked out into the coffee shop before he murmured, “I also did this. I was hoping you’d be home by your birthday, and I’d give it to you then… just think of it as a late birthday gift… my way of talking to you like you were there…” 

It didn’t escape Chester’s notice that Mike chose words he’d said just minutes earlier, and he watched as Mike pulled a small moleskin notebook from his jeans pocket. “It’s not as eloquent as you, Ches, but nobody would get it but you anyway. I… I want you to have it. I have your notebook, and now you have mine.”

Chester watched Mike flip his wrist over and place the palm sized notebook in his hand. Hesitantly, he opened the cover and was bombarded with Mike’s small, neat block lettering in his own form of shorthand, a way he took notes that Chester had come to understand over years of writing together. The notebook was packed full, cover to cover, no indentions or skipped lines, no paragraphs, just line after line of Mike’s thoughts. Chester didn’t know what to say as he flipped through it quickly. 

“Maybe next time-” Mike started softly, but Chester interrupted.

“There won’t be a next time,” he said firmly. “I don’t think I could do it again. And now… now I know, I understand a little bit better… what I need.” Chester closed the small notebook and thoughtfully touched the cover with a single finger, a slight stroke down the center before he looked up and caught Mike’s unguarded eyes. “Thank you. For this,” he clarified, tapping the cover of the notebook.

 _It’s all in there, every fear, every thought, every moment I wanted to share with you._ Mike looked away, feeling suddenly very vulnerable. “You should hear some of it. Come home with me, come listen to what I’ve been doing without you. It will explain more than that notebook ever could.”

_Come home with me._

Chester could feel his heartbeat thundering out of control as he finished off his coffee and stood up, slipping the small notebook into his pocket before offering his hand to Mike. “I think I already know,” he said, pulling Mike out of the booth and squeezing his hand tightly before dropping it and heading for the door. “Let’s go.”

**********

Mike paced the room as Chester listened to the demos. He hadn’t said anything when they got up to the studio and his notebook was right next to the computer, and he hadn’t said anything while he listened to Mike’s rough cuts of lyrics he’d painstakingly put together in the vocalist’s absence. _He hates it. No, he doesn’t hate it. I know him. He’d already be complaining if he hated it. Not complaining. Offering solutions. Telling me ways to fix it. He’d be telling me if I missed the mark. Maybe it’s the melodies. Maybe he isn’t feeling the mood. It IS pretty mellow. Totally different than The Hunting Party. But… that’s good. I don’t want another version of The Hunting Party. Even though that’s a fucking great album. I think this one can be even better. I think it’s relatable. It’s raw. It’s honest. Maybe that’s what’s wrong. It’s too honest._

His attention snapped over to Chester as the vocalist slid the headphones off, quietly setting them to the side of his notebook before he propped both elbows on the edge of Mike’s desk and dropped his face into his hands.

“Ches?” Mike asked tentatively. “If it’s too much, if it’s too soon-”

“No,” Chester answered firmly. “I just, I need a second.”

Mike bit down on his bottom lip and forced himself to stay silent even though the anxiety was eating him alive. Chester had been home twenty four hours, and Mike was worried he’d already pushed him too much. _I’m always doing that. Pushing him too much. Like he said. Calling the shots. Telling him what to do, what to sing and how. I never just let him be._ He looked out the window, at the ripples from the light breeze on the surface of the pool. 

“How do you do it?” Chester finally asked from behind his hands, his voice small. 

“What?” Mike stopped pacing and sat heavily on the edge of the couch, his right hand nervously twisting his wedding band in circles on his left hand as he watched Chester, the way his shoulders turned in on himself and how he looked so much smaller than he had when Mike looked him over in the coffee shop.

“How do you get inside my mind like that? How can you take words scattered all through this notebook and turn them into this?” Chester motioned toward the computer even though his head was still down.

“I’ve been doing it for a long time, Ches. I know your head. I know your head better than I know my own, sometimes.” Mike looked down and the light caught on one of the diamonds in his ring, flashing like an SOS signal. 

After another deep breath, a mumble that Mike thought could have been - _’you don’t know all of it'_ \- and then Chester asked, “does it all makes sense to you then? Do you understand why I had to go?”

Mike hesitated before he said, “I think so. And, maybe you’re right. Maybe we learned something about each other in the process.”

Chester kept his head in his hands, his voice sounding muffled as he said, “you think so?”

“Yeah,” Mike said quietly. “I know I never want to be without you again. It was killing me, not knowing how you were. But… if that’s what you needed, then I’d do it all over again. I hope you know that. And look - something beautiful came out of it. This is going to be an album like nothing else we’ve done before. And that’s all because of you. _You_ , Ches. I may have written the songs but the lyrics belong to you.”

There was silence between them before Chester said, “you’re right. It won’t be like anything we’ve ever done before. And it’s scary to think that it’s all my thoughts, all out there on display for everyone… but… you’ve done a hell of a job with it Mike. I mean, there’s definitely moments in these demos where I hear your voice on the final cut.” Chester finally looked up, and their eyes locked. Neither of them said anything, and finally Chester cleared his throat. “You did good, Mikey. This is… this is definitely some of your best work.”

Mike said the only thing he could think of as he looked into Chester’s bottomless eyes. It was a direct contradiction to what Chester had been trying to say about separating their identities from each other. It was defiance without Mike really knowing what it was he was defying. “No, Ches. It’s _our_ best work. You and I… we’re a team. We’re always going to be a team. No matter what. No matter how many miles or months separate us, this is how we work. You and I, together. Always.”

And all Chester could do was let three months of work dissolve in a heartbeat as he agreed, “always,” crossing an ‘x’ over his heart and smiling softly.


	39. Part Five: OML -- Fireworks

**July 4, 2016**

Chester sat at the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, watching the children play from behind his sunglasses even though the sun was setting. There was a glass of iced tea in his hand, and he’d barely taken a sip. He was thinking of July fourth parties of years long past, when it was normal to have an ice cold beer in his hand. Unfortunately, those memories also came with memories of his ex-wife, and he shook his head to try to make the pictures of Sam’s too tight shirts and too big hair go away.

He’d been trying to keep tabs on his own kids in the pool, but it was filled with the entire Linkin Park crew. It had been Talinda’s idea… all sixteen kids, ranging from twenty to two, a couple of his kid’s dates, the band and their wives, together at their house for the holiday. A small fortune had been spent on fireworks, and Jaime and Isaiah had made elaborate plans to put on a show for the little kids. Heidi had brought Lola’s noise cancelling headphones used in concerts for the fireworks, and Chester overheard Talinda commenting that she should find the twins’ own headphones before it got dark. 

He looked over at the lounge chair where Alyssa was sitting with her boyfriend and thought about saying something to them about how close they were sitting, but he didn’t get the chance. Mike sat down right next to him, his t-shirt and swim trunks dry as a bone, a bottle of water in one hand and a bowl of chips in the other.

“Wanna bite?” Mike asked, balancing the bowl of Doritos on his thigh. 

Chester reached over for a chip without hesitation. “I was just sitting here thinking something was missing. After all that food at dinner, turns out what I needed was chips.” He smiled at Mike and then nodded his head at the pool. “You gonna get in?”

“Nah,” Mike answered, kicking his feet in the water slowly. “If one more person gets in the water might overflow.” He enjoyed the sound of Chester’s giggle before they both lapsed into noisy chip crunching. It didn’t take long for the two of them to finish off the bowl, and Mike set it to the side. “You doing okay tonight, Ches? You’ve been quiet.” Mike kept his eyes out over the water, watching Tyler start to organize a game of Marco Polo with Jonah, Otis, and Dave’s two middle girls. They were all close in age and he smiled at the way Brad’s son’s hair looked like a wet poodle - just like his dad’s had back in the ‘fro days.

“Just sitting and thinking. Reminiscing, I guess,” Chester answered, looking at his tea glass. “We’ve been doing this almost eighteen years now, you know? That’s a lot of fourth of Julys and Christmases. Thanksgivings. Hanukkahs. And we’ve been with family for most of them, which is impressive, as much time as we’ve spent on the road.”

“It’s always been a priority,” Mike agreed, his eyes still on the kids. “Though somehow, you and I usually end up together anyway.”

Chester nodded slowly. “Yeah. I was thinking, of all the things that have changed, you’re the same. You’re still here.” He looked at Mike, but Mike’s attention stayed on the pool in front of him. 

“So are you,” Mike said, a careful tone in his voice. “And I’m grateful. We’ve been through a lot together, you know?” There was chaos all around them, but their conversation felt like it was in its own private bubble. “You’re still making me a little nervous when you get like this, though. When you’re quiet, especially with everyone around. You’re usually the life of the party.”

“Just observing, Mikey. Look at the kids, look at how big they are. Jaime’s twenty. _Twenty._ Can you believe that? It doesn’t seem real, that you and I have known each other long enough for my son to almost be drinking age. And… just thinking about everything, what a mess my life was when we started out, and you’ve been here, for all of it.”

Mike turned to look at Chester, _really look_ at him, nodding his head. He looked at the thinner set of Chester’s lips, the plugs in his ears that were huge these days, the crow’s feet at his eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth. “I don’t know where the time has gone, Ches. To me, when I think about you, I still see that skinny guy in those huge baggy clothes with the lip ring. It doesn’t seem real that you’re forty now. I’m almost forty. Wow.” He smiled as Chester made a face. “It doesn’t feel that way when we’re on stage. I don’t feel a second over twenty-five.”

“Ha, that’s because you’re not held together by pins and rods and your back doesn’t hurt.” Chester kicked the water just enough to make it splash onto Mike’s legs. “You might feel twenty-five, I feel like I’m seventy,” he whined. 

“Well, you don’t look seventy,” Mike assured him before he moved his hand to cover over Chester’s where it was curled around the edge of the pool. The contact was warm and familiar, and Mike looked down at their hands, hidden from view between each of their legs. “And I know you. As soon as we start shooting off fireworks, you’ll be out there with the boys like you’re one of them.”

“Well, who doesn’t love setting things on fire and watching them explode?” Chester said, excitement coming back into his voice. “It’s the best part about the fourth of July. I still don’t understand why you just sit there and watch.”

“I don’t want to blow a finger off,” Mike said, pressing his fingers down inbetween Chester’s. “Don’t you remember those videos they showed in grade school? The safety videos? Like, don’t stick your head outside of the school bus, you could hit a street sign and die? Don’t play on train tracks, you could get hit by a train and die? There was a don’t play with firecrackers one, and they said you could blow your fingers off. It scared the shit out of me when I was a kid. I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.”

Chester’s laugh could be heard across the entire patio, as he teased Mike and tried to convince him that as an adult, it wasn’t likely he’d blow off his fingers lighting firecrackers. Most of the guests at the party didn’t even look in the direction of the two frontmen, but the sound brought Anna’s attention out of the conversation she was having with Elisa and Heidi and right to her husband, who was sitting so close to Chester.

She was just far enough away that she couldn’t tell what they were laughing at, but she didn’t miss Mike’s hand on Chester’s. She didn’t miss the intimate way their movements mirrored each other as they talked. When Chester shifted one way, Mike followed. When Chester leaned his head back to laugh, Mike did, too. The things nobody else seemed to see, much less mention, were the things she was able to zero in on with ease. She watched Chester lean down to touch the water, then flick droplets back at Mike as he yelped and laughed, and that was all it took for Mike to pull his hand away and reach into the water to retaliate. Before she knew it, they had pulled each other over into the pool, to the delight of the kids that swarmed around them.

“Anna?” 

She blinked and turned back to Elisa, who was looking at her expectantly. It was clear she’d missed a question she was supposed to answer. “I’m sorry, ‘Lis. What was that?”

“I was asking if you had the kid’s headphones. Heidi brought Lola’s and I was thinking what a slack parent I am, I didn’t even think about it. You know how loud fireworks can be.” Elisa was looking at Anna with her hand flipped up to the sky, clearly annoyed at herself for not thinking things through.

The shrieks and giggles continued from the pool as side by side, Mike and Chester threw kids into the deep end, and Anna saw Rob cannonball into the deep end to chase his bandmate’s kids out of the water, pretending to be a swamp monster. They were all a big bunch of kids at heart, and despite her ever present jealousy, Anna was happy to see Chester smiling and participating.

“Yeah, I’ve got them in my bag. You should ask Tal, she’s probably got a few extras laying around. I haven’t seen the big kids wear them in years.” The chatter continued, interrupted occasionally by a child running up to tell a story or ask a question. Every so often Anna would glance out at the pool, comparing Dave and Joe’s playful interactions with their kids, and Mike and Chester’s competition to see who could throw their kids the farthest. Rob and his long limbs treading water until someone splashed in front of him and he chased them out. Brad on the side with his youngest. She watched it all silently, nodding her head and humming her agreement at the right time to whatever was being talked about. 

“Damn, Chester! I don’t know how you’re doing this!” Mike yelled over the noise in the pool. They’d been at it long enough that his forearms were aching, and the kids weren’t even close to being tired yet. “Delson, you’re gonna have to take my place!” 

Brad looked over from the edge of the pool, where he was sitting on the steps holding Evan in the water. “My hands are full!” he called, unwilling to compete with Chester on any display of strength. Dave held up both hands when Mike looked to him, and suddenly Joe was nowhere to be found.

With a sigh, Mike picked Otis up out of the water and sent him flying toward Rob, then looked over at Chester again. “I’m done!” he announced, completely winded. There was a chorus of disappointed chatter around him, but he didn’t cave. “It’s going to be time for fireworks soon, anyway!” 

That by itself was enough to send kids scrambling for towels, and Mike huffed as he got out of the pool. “I wasn’t planning on getting wet,” he complained to no one in particular, tugging at his t-shirt that was sticking to his torso. Chester was still in the water, making a few last tosses.

Looking up and seeing Mike by the pool, dripping and alone, Anna took the opportunity to bring him a towel. “Looks like you guys were having a good time,” she said, tossing him the towel and bending down to wrap one around Abi’s shoulders as she scrambled out of the pool behind her father. 

“Yeah, but they aren’t light,” Mike said dramatically, gesturing to the kids all around. “I don’t know how Chester does it.” He watched the vocalist pick up and toss Jonah with ease. 

“Oh, if you saw how much he worked out, you’d understand,” Talinda said as she handed more towels out to everyone. “If you aren’t around keeping him busy, he’s in the gym. It’s all he does anymore if he’s not with you.”

Mike’s eyes flicked to Anna’s as Talinda passed them by, and he didn’t know why his face suddenly felt warm. _She makes it sound like we spend all of our time together. Maybe we do._

Not a day had passed in the months since Chester had come home from rehab that he didn’t see his best friend. There was coffee, lunch, dinners, studio time in the valley and studio time at Mike’s. There were meetings and design projects, and sometimes Chester tagged along even when he wasn’t needed. Neither of them had gotten over the loneliness of their separation yet, and apparently it was evident to their wives.

Hiding behind his towel, Mike scrubbed it over his head to dry his hair. It smelled like Chester. He shook his head as he dragged the towel over the wet t-shirt clinging to his upper body, and down his arms. All around him was the happy chaos of voices, parent and child interactions, but Mike was listening for Chester. His ear were always hyperaware of any sound from the vocalist, and he filtered through all the noise until he picked out Chester’s voice.

He was giggling with Talinda, and Mike turned around to catch Chester’s arms around his wife, pulling her into his wet arms and rubbing his wet face against hers while she fussed at him playfully. There was something about the look on Chester’s face that caused Mike’s stomach to roll with jealousy, even as he reprimanded himself for being so childish. _She’s his wife. You’re not._

The thought gave him pause as he realized where his head had gone, and he caught his breath as Anna stepped into his line of sight, offering a fresh shirt. “Thanks, honey,” he said, his voice sounding tight even to him.

“I didn’t figure you wanted to watch fireworks all damp,” Anna answered, watching him carefully. “And you know Josie will want to sit with you. I was planning on changing them out of their wet suits before we got started.” She waited for recognition to dawn in Mike’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah, okay. I’ll come help you with that.” He forced himself not to look past Anna’s shoulder at Chester and Talinda, but down at his girls who were crowded around their parents. He didn’t hear Chester’s laughter anymore, and he knew why. Chester had never had a problem making out with his wife in front of everyone, and suddenly, the last thing Mike wanted to see was his best friend and his wife kissing. “Come on, let’s go inside,” he said, grabbing onto Josie’s small hand and tugging her along next to him, not glancing back to see if Anna was following.

****

It was definitely dark by the time everyone was changed and dry, and all of the little kids were buzzing with the kind of excitement that comes with delayed bedtimes and celebrations. The band had insisted that everyone stay inside while they spread blankets on the Bennington’s lawn and moved patio chairs out into an arc for the wives, bickering in their usual style as they arranged things. Jaime and Isaiah were lining everything up and ignoring the more adult adults while they planned for each firework’s moment of glory.

Brad was standing to the side of the semi-circle, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the chairs. “I think we should drag some out here for us, too. I don’t want to sit on the ground. My back already hurts.” He rubbed a hand over the small of his back as if to make a point, and he grimaced as he thought of the last time his back had seized up. It had been so bad he’d missed a show. His first and only time to sit a performance out. 

“You’re such an old man,” Dave tossed over to him with a grin as he and Joe spread out another blanket. “You’re getting to be as bad as Chester!” Joe laughed after he hurled the insult, and Dave winked over at him with a saucy grin.

“Ha-ha,” Chester said drily as he and Rob spread out the blanket next to Dave and Joe’s. “You all don’t know what it’s like to have back problems. Or leg problems. Or any problems, for that matter.” He assessed the rest of the band with a critical eye as Rob piped up.

“Don’t start with me about aches and pains,” the youngest member of Linkin Park said in an unusually feisty voice. “You have no idea what I feel like after a set. I’m not eighteen anymore. It’s like I need a damn massage after every time I play these days. 

“Damn, Bourdie, you act like we’re all a hundred years old. What’s with all the bitching from you guys about age tonight?” Mike huffed as he deposited the chair he’d carried from the patio into the set up to satisfy Brad. 

“You were complaining about being tired earlier, too!” Rob shot back, reminding Mike that he’d also been part of the tired rock star whining earlier in the pool.

“That was different,” Mike defended instantly. “You’d be complaining too if you were up against Chester. He’s like, in beast mode these days.”

“Let’s get him in beast mode in the studio tomorrow,” Brad said, stretching out his arms in front of him and avoiding any actual work. “Let’s get in there and finish some of these tracks. We’re not going to hit a 2016 deadline if we don’t.”

Joe sighed dramatically and turned to face Brad. “You’re really going to drag work into this right now? Can’t we just mess around and give each other a hard time about how old and soft we’ve gotten? We’re all gonna need thicker skin when this album drops. You know that’s what we’re gonna hear. How soft we’ve gotten. We might as well practice making fun of each other and learning how to get over it now.”

Mike stopped where he was and looked at Joe. “Is that what you think? You think it’s too soft?” He wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed, but he’d put hours into writing those lyrics. They were poured from Chester’s heart when he was suffering and Mike had carefully put the words together into songs that were more poignant and transparent than any they’d ever written. He didn’t think they were soft. It was the completely the opposite for him. The words were so razor sharp they cut into his heart, leaving tiny knicks and bruises every time they tried to get Chester’s vocals recorded. It had been slow going because of the rawness of the content. There was nothing soft about the new songs.

He and Chester would get started trying to track his vocals and the whole thing would derail into discussions of how Chester had been feeling at the time he’d come up with the words, or how he felt revisiting them now. They’d end up side by side on the studio couch with Chester’s head in his hands, or his hands holding Mike’s. They’d take breaks only to find that going on was impossible for the moment, and Mike wasn’t going to push him. More than once he’d suggested changing a phrase or putting a song away completely, but Chester had insisted he could do it. And now Joe wanted to poke fun at their work?

“No, Mike, you’re taking it all wrong!” Joe held up both hands as a sign of surrender, feeling everyone else’s eyes on him as well. “I love what we’re doing. I just meant… you know how it is. We always get shit from one side or the other. ‘Bring back Hybrid Theory!’ ‘What’s this heavy shit?’ ‘Why doesn’t Mike rap anymore?’ ‘Why does Mike rap so much?’ We never please everyone, that’s all I’m saying.”

“We’re not trying to please everyone,” Rob said, looking around the group as they all stood looking at each other uncertainly. “We’ve never been about that. I just want to make the best album we can make. Fuck anyone who doesn’t like it,” he said protectively.

Chester felt his face break into a grin as Rob dropped his opinion on them. “That’s it, Bourdie. Fuck ‘em. Mike’s been working his ass off on this album and it’s going to be different. And everyone can go fuck themselves if they don’t like it.” He looked at Mike and winked. “I’ll get some actual work done tomorrow, I promise. Hell, you guys might just want to use Mike’s vocals on some of it. He sounds fuckin’ amazing.” 

Mike could hear the pride in Chester’s voice and he ducked his head, his cheeks blushing a little as he brushed off the compliment. “Come on, let’s get the kiddos out here and get this show started. Chester bought enough fireworks for a three hour long extravaganza, and none of us old men are gonna make it anywhere close to midnight, much less the kids,” he teased. “We can talk actual work tomorrow, okay?”

A collective nod went around the group and Dave headed off to poke his head in the back door to get everyone outside. As Chester headed over to check on his sons, to be sure they had everything ready, he caught Mike’s eyes. He changed direction by a few steps, and stopped at Mike’s side, grabbing on to Mike’s bicep and pulling him close before whispering in his ear, “I mean it, Mike. Your voice has gotten so sexy. We should use it more.” 

There was a spark of electricity between Chester’s lips and Mike’s ear as they brushed over his earlobe, and Mike couldn’t stifle the small gasp that came from between his lips as his eyes instinctually closed. Chester released him and was gone before he could say anything, and he opened his eyes to see Brad watching them. _Sexy. Me? Chester called my voice sexy._ He ignored Brad and looked over his shoulder at Chester, who was animatedly gesturing to the sky and to the line of fireworks on the table in front of his boys. _Sexy. Sexy._

Then there were children underfoot, Josie’s hands grabbing at his shirt as she begged to be picked up, Abi calling for his attention, and Anna and Otis walking across the lawn behind them, and for a moment, Mike couldn’t focus on his family. His mind was in the studio, wondering exactly at what point his voice had crossed over into sexy, and if Chester really wanted to use his vocals or if he was just being Chester. Just doing that thing he did that made Mike feel special. Anna was next to him, saying something to Abi, before he thought to bend and pick up Josie, and he caught the annoyed look in his wife’s eyes.

“Sorry, I just… drifted off there for a second,” he said apologetically, and automatically leaned to peck her on the cheek. “Saved you a seat,” he tried, grinning at her and pointing to a deck chair. _Sexy. My voice is sexy._

“Thanks,” Anna said, sitting down and feeling Otis crowd close to her feet. She reached down to smooth her hand through her son’s dark hair, the hair that he shared with his father, thick and black and straighter than hers had ever been. She watched Mike settle on to the blanket in front of her, stretching out onto his back with a goofy smile on his face, and she looked around to see the rest of the band follow suit, and all the children crowded up next to their fathers and their Uncle Rob. 

As Mike had predicted, Chester was up with Jaime and Isaiah, cheering and lighting fireworks, and in the darkness of the backyard, as Mike watched him, Chester might as well have been twenty-three again. None of the things Mike had seen that gave away Chester’s age when he looked at him poolside just a few hours ago could be seen in the light from the stars or the fireworks, and even if they could have, Mike was looking at him from behind a lens that was eighteen years old. 

Anna noticed how Mike watched Chester more than he watched the fireworks, and she sat silently, chewing the inside of her lip as she kept a hand in Otis’ hair, wishing it were Mike’s.


	40. Part Five: OML -- Silent Night

**December 2, 2018**

Mike barely looked up as Chester flopped down on the couch next to him, their thighs and knees, shoulders and arms touching. 

“You’re nervous,” he said, looking at Mike over the top of his current pair of glasses - some round, wire-rimmed affair that Mike was still getting used to seeing on his face. 

It had become apparent, some time around October, that a 2016 release for the new album just wasn’t going to happen. Mike had been afraid to push as hard as he normally would have during albums past, and balancing Chester’s mental health and the new ProTools updates, along with the subsequent crashes, had set the progress back farther than Mike had wanted to admit. Ever since he’d given in and allowed himself to stop feeling the pressure of a self imposed deadline, things seemed to come together nicely. 

Mike was convinced this album had some of Dave’s best work on it, melodic bass lines that, along with his own piano, could almost could carry the lyrics alone. After the bass lines were established, hours had been spent transposing them and letting Chester sing in different keys until the magical one leapt out at them all. As it turned out, the whole album had been written around the somewhat new limitations in Chester’s voice. Limitations that nobody wanted to directly address, but that hung about in the fringes of everything they were writing until the right key was found and Chester could manage all the notes with ease. Joe had an arsenal of effects and electronica to add, and they’d layered Rob’s drum parts tastefully on top… and then there was Brad’s guitar work. There was no denying that the whole album had been a labor of love for all of them, but Brad’s work was so subtle and beautiful that Mike was still in awe of it all when he listened to it. 

He’d spent countless days in the studio side by side with Brad, mixing and leveling and arguing. Trying to convince Brad that the guitars should be more present, and letting the guitarist argue him back down into subtly. 

_You’re the one who keeps saying, we’re not making this for anyone but us. That we’re being true to us as artists. So stop trying to think about what everyone else wants. What do you want, Mike? What about what I want? What if I don’t want heavy guitar chords? What if, where I am right now, I want to dig in and do the intricate work? I’m not afraid of it anymore, and you shouldn’t be either._

The thought of Brad, his vision of what he wanted this album to be, was weighing on Mike’s mind now. He’d come in hours early to listen to it all, the finished album, start to finish, before the rest of the guys showed up. Of course Chester would know that about him. Of course Chester wouldn’t let him listen alone.

He dropped his hand on Chester’s knee and leaned his head back onto the orange couch. “Nervous isn’t the right word. Anxious?” Mike squeezed Chester’s knee and then let his hand relax. “I guess that’s the same thing. I just, I don’t know. I feel like this is what I want. What _we_ want. Everything we’ve talked about is in here. It’s open, honest, vulnerable, Ches, and… I don’t know. Are you ready for that?”

“I didn’t even write most of these songs,” Chester pointed out. “Look at the track list we chose, look at the credits… from the outside looking in, the songs aren’t mine. They’re yours.”

Mike let that sink into his brain for a few minutes. _My songs. I suppose they are mine. Objectively, if you want to get down to the nuts and bolts of it, I wrote the songs. But they’re Chester’s words._ “Regardless of what it looks like on paper, we all know where the words came from.” Mike rolled his head to the side and met Chester’s soft brown eyes behind those lenses in the silly frames. A smile touched his lips as they looked at each other.

“What?” Chester asked, quirking an eyebrow at Mike.

“Those glasses. I… I just can’t. Totally not used to them yet.” Lifting his hand from Chester’s leg, Mike tapped the side of the frames. “Take ‘em off. So I can see you. You know I hate when you have them on and I’m trying to talk to you.”

“They’re _glass_ , Mike. They’re meant to see through,” Chester fussed, but he took them off anyway. “There. Is that better?” He folded the glasses and stuck them in the collar of his shirt. “So I don’t lose ‘em,” he smiled, patting his hand over the front of his shirt.

“You would,” Mike agreed. “I’m impressed these have lasted as long as they have.” He sighed as Chester reached out and moved a stray lock of his hair from his forehead, the simple gesture causing his heart to beat a little bit faster. “Anyway, like I was saying… I know the six of us are going to love it. We’ve all certainly argued enough and worked hard enough on it. I do love it, even with some of the subjects we tackled. I just… I love it so much, what it the fans hate it?”

“They hated _A Thousand Suns_ when it came out, too,” Chester pointed out, settling his hand back in his own lap. “And you worried over that then. But now, that album is pretty widely held as our best work. I think this will be the same way. There will be people who never get it. But I think it’s our best work, Mike.” He looked across the studio at the remnants of the impromptu cupcake party they’d had in honor of Brad’s birthday the day before. 

“I know you won’t say it, but you’re worried about how it’s going to sell. Because of _The Hunting Party._ And I’ll say now what I said then. It’s a fucking good album. And four hundred thousand copies is nothing to sneeze at in the digital age, Mike. We’ve always known that everything after _Hybrid Theory_ was going to sell less copies. We’ll never put out an album in that perfect storm again. That doesn’t diminish what this will be. It’s art. And it’s true to who we are right now. You know, Mike and Chester in 2000 couldn’t have written something this complicated. If you tear _Hybrid Theory_ down, it’s the same four chords over and over.”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh. Everything Chester was saying was the absolute truth, and he knew it. But he also remembered the days after _A Thousand Suns_ came out, and how vicious the commentary had been. And that had been before the true dawn of the social media age, the Twitter and Instagram and everything else that could be used to spread hate. Those platforms had be used on every album since, and _The Hunting Party_ had taken on its share of derogatory comments before fading out of airplay and into obscurity for everyone but the hardcore fans. He really hoped, more than he could voice aloud to the rest of the guys, that this album would be different. He couldn’t bear to think that if this album didn’t do well in the mainstream, they would be hard pressed to keep making new music the way they were luxuriously afforded to now. It was too much to think that the band had run its course, that Chester’s voice had run its course, and that they were finished.

He was clinging to this album and all its hopes for the future almost desperately. Success of this album guaranteed the band continued. It guaranteed a tour. It guaranteed time with Chester. 

“You’re right, Ches,” he finally said, following his eyes over to the metallic paper party hats Joe had insisted they wear yesterday, and which had lead to a lot of crude jokes while they tried to see who could eat their cupcake the most pornographically. Mike shook his head to get the vision of Chester licking the frosting off his fingers out of his head. “I just want this album to be the one that everyone looks back on and says, ‘that was it. That was the album that made me realize, _these guys can do anything, and I can’t wait to see what they come up with next._ ’ I’m always afraid it won’t get the respect it deserves.”

Chester didn’t say anything, and Mike closed his eyes again. “I was gonna listen to it one more time before the guys got here. I should have known you’d be the one to know I was in here freaking out. So… you wanna listen to it?”

“No.” Chester’s answer was direct, and quiet, and Mike’s eyes shot open as he lifted his head from the couch and turned to his best friend.

“No?” Mike repeated, his jaw dropping open in shock. Chester never told him no. “What do you mean, no?”

“You can wait on the guys, and we’ll all listen together. You need some distance from it,” Chester said, sliding off the couch and offering Mike his hand. “I have a better idea.” His glasses jiggled in the collar of his shirt, but Chester didn’t move to put them on.

“Chesterrrr,” Mike whined, not reaching for the vocalist’s hand. “I came in to work. To get my thoughts straight. What else is there to do?”

Chester put one hand on his hip as he kept the other extending to Mike in invitation. “We’re going to fix this place. Get rid of Brad’s birthday leftovers and fucking decorate for Christmas.” He shook his head at Mike’s incredulous face. “What? We always decorated in the old place. This new studio is bigger. It needs a tree. It needs lights. I want a tree, Mike, and I want it now.” He looked at Mike expectantly.

“Ches,” Mike whined again, but this time with a hint of a smile. “The album-”

“Will still be here when we get back. Come on,” Chester interrupted with finality. “We’re going to get a tree, and you’re not arguing, Shinoda. I know you love Christmas as much as I do. I’ll even let you put the lights on, since I know how much you love that.” He’d already grabbed Mike’s hand and was pulling him toward the door.

Mike bit his lip to hide his excited smile as they walked, hands linked, out to Chester’s Mercedes. _This is ridiculous. But that’s what I love about him._ Mike didn’t dare look over at Chester as the warm, happy, loving endorphins seeped into his brain and his body. Years of restraint had taught him that keeping his eyes forward was the best way to prevent something from happening they’d later regret. 

Chester was already mentally decorating, his desire for colored lights on the tree _and_ the studio ceiling creating a non-negotiable list of items to purchase. Mike settled into the bucket seat on the passenger side and let Chester take the wheel, literally and figuratively. “I’m just along for the ride,” he said, and Chester reached over to smack at his arm.

“Fuck no, you’re not,” he exclaimed, twisting his head around quickly to check behind the car, despite having a back up camera at his disposal. He caught Mike’s smirk and shrugged. “Old habits die hard, you know. I don’t trust these things. And I’m trying to teach Dra to drive and he’s so dependent on the damn thing-”

“You’re already letting Draven drive?” Mike asked, also glancing over his shoulder out of habit. “I can’t believe that.” It didn’t seem possible that Chester was about to have three kids that could drive.

“Yeah, I figured I better start him before Sam. She’s a fucking terrible driver.” Chester scowled in the sideview mirror before they pulled out of the parking lot. 

Mike let the comment go, not willing to start a conversation that would leave them both in bad moods. “You know,” he said instead, “we really should get a fake tree for the studio. A real one is kind of a fire hazard, since we won’t be there to water it every day.”

Chester snorted from the driver’s seat. “Are you saying you’re not planning to come in every day between now and Christmas? I don’t believe you.” 

“Regardless. I think we should try to not burn the new place down. Think of the guitars, Chester. Think of Brad. What would Brad do if all his guitars went up in flames?” Mike grinned as he pictured the horror on his friend’s face. “You don’t want to scar him for life, right?”

“Fuck. I guess you’re right.” Chester flipped a hand out to the side. “Fine. We’ll get a _fake_ tree,” he spit in disgust. “But I want one of those badass candles that smell like a real tree to make up for it.”

“Fire, Chester. No. How about a room spray or something?” 

“A room spray? Jesus, Mike, you sound like a woman. Room spray. No, we’re buying a fucking candle,” Chester decided, and the case was closed, the way it always was when it came to Chester and Christmas. 

One shopping spree later, they were armed with a table top tree, lights, tinsel, ornaments, and one candle that smelled as close to.a real Christmas tree smell as Mike could find. They were both laughing as they brought the bags in from the car, Chester complaining loudly that if he’d had a bigger car they’d have a bigger tree.

“This one is fine,” Mike insisted, tapping the side of the box holding the tree with one hand and holding the door open with his foot so Chester could bring in the bags of ornaments. “We don’t need a big tree here. We have trees at home.”

“But this is _our_ tree,” Chester said, dropping the bags onto floor by the table and frowning at the leftover party mess. “Fuckin’ Brad and his cupcakes. We have to get this mess in the trash before we can open up the tree.” He picked up the empty box that had held the small frosted cakes and looked at Mike. “He’s our last birthday of the year. It’s almost 2017. And no matter what happens with this album, Mikey, I think 2017 is going be our best year yet. You just wait.”

Mike picked up the party hats and smiled. “You say that every year, Chester.” He held his hand out for the cupcake box and Chester handed it off to him. “But I know what you mean. Something about the way this is coming together feels big. I feel it, too.” He tossed the leftover party items into the trash reached for the tree box, focusing his attention there instead of on the bundle of excitement he felt when they talked about the future. “Ok. Be ready to fluff this out, you know it’s going to look awful out of the box.”

“I know, I know,” Chester said, watching Mike with eyes that sparkled with anticipation. “I hate fake trees. But this one will be great. Open that bad boy up.”

Together they assembled the four foot tree, stopping only briefly to sword fight with a couple of limbs, and went about fluffing each branch in companionable silence. Every so often their eyes would meet in a smile, and they kept working, the deadline of having the tree ready before the guys arrived looming in the background. As Mike arranged the lights - huge colored bulbs that Chester had been ecstatic over - the vocalist launched into an a capella version of _Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree_ , and Mike was laughing so hard his hands were shaking. 

“It is unreal how you can make your voice sound like anyone’s,” Mike gasped between laughs, darting his eyes between his very artistic light placement and Chester’s goofy dancing around the tree table. “Stop, you’re distracting me!”

“You’re no fun,” Chester pouted, his hands dropping to his sides as his dance stopped. “Fine. I’ll serenade you with something else.” He reached for a box of ornaments and started to take one out to look at in the overhead light.

“Maybe just wait,” Mike suggested, fixing his strand of lights over the last spot on the little tree he deemed too dark. “I’ll play for you when we’re finished here. Mike and Chester’s Christmas hits, okay?” He looked up in time to see the way Chester was looking at him, a cross between hopeful and cautious. “The fans have been harassing us for a Christmas album for ages, you know?”

“Oh. You’re gonna record it?” Chester asked quietly, dropping his eyes back to the ornament box, and Mike couldn’t quite get a read on his emotions.

“Why not?” Mike answered simply. “We record almost everything. Wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit stored away for a rainy day, right?” 

Their eyes met again, and Chester pushed his glasses up like he was trying to hide behind them. “Right. Well, let’s get these ornaments on and get to it, then. Mike Shinoda’s personal jukebox, coming right up.”

Mike wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, but it was evident he’d misread something as they completed the tree in silence. He stood back to make sure the ornaments were evenly distributed on his side before he glanced Chester’s way again. “You should put the star on, Ches, she’s your baby.”

Chester nodded, reaching for the gold wire star they’d picked out together, his mood lifting a little. “It’s exactly what we needed in here, you know. I love Christmas. I love shopping for the kids and the family, making dinner and cookies and presents… I love the thought of snow. The girls have been asking about it. Maybe I’ll have some snow brought in for the kids.” He chuckled softly to himself as he placed the star on the tree. “The girls wouldn’t know what to think if they woke up to snow on Christmas in California. I wonder how much that would cost?”

“Does it matter? They could tell you it would be a hundred thousand and you’d do it, just to give your kids a white Christmas.” Mike reached out and squeezed Chester’s shoulder, trying to make amends. “That’s what makes you such an amazing dad.” He pointed at the tree and shook his head. “And stuff like this is what makes you an amazing friend. You’re right, we needed this. It was a perfect distraction, I haven’t worried about the album for two hours. I don’t know how you knew what would work, but you did.”

They contemplated the small tree together for a minute, and then Mike looked at Chester’s profile. The tree lights were reflecting off the lenses of his glasses, hiding his eyes from view. “Come on,” he said gently. “I want to play for you. And I won’t record it. Let’s just go see what happens.”

Chester didn’t look at Mike, his voice far away in thought. “You can record it, Mike. I was just being weird. I know you record everything.” He looked up at the ceiling. “We can hang the other lights once Bourdie gets here. He’ll be able to reach.”

Mike nodded, looking around the perimeter of the room. “Yeah, we’ll figure out how to get them up there. Now… come sing for me?” He tilted his chin in Chester’s direction and waited until Chester looked back at him.

“You taking requests?” the vocalist asked cheekily, and Mike grinned at him. The distance between them had passed. 

“How about I play an intro, and you sing the song you think is in my head?” Mike offered. 

“Too easy, Shinoda,” Chester said, still standing by the Christmas tree as Mike crossed the room to the piano. He watched Mike sit down, the way he lightly brushed his fingers over the keys as he settled in, the way that little lock of hair that he’d moved off his forehead earlier was falling again. He studied the confident posture of the man he thought of as Linkin Park’s emcee as he began to showcase his classical piano skills, and for a moment Chester regretted that they weren’t recording. But he wanted this for them. A Chester and Mike memory, not something recorded and saved away, something they’d pull out in five or ten or fifteen years when the well ran dry and putting out a Christmas album was the only thing they could think to do. He didn’t want to share. He wanted to sing for Mike.

With a jolt Chester realized all he ever really wanted to do was sing for Mike, that throughout the years, it was Mike that grounded him and gave him purpose. He watched Mike’s long, slender fingers delicately pick out some jazzy chords for _Jingle Bells_ , and Chester obliged with a mix of traditional and made up lyrics that had Mike in hysterics before they were finished. Chester relished in the glow on Mike’s face as they settled into _Up on the Housetop_ , then slowed into one of Chester’s favorites, _The First Noel_.

The studio felt close and tight and warm around them, their own private bubble, and Mike’s eyes kept coming back to Chester’s face as he sang. The cheerful vibe of the first two songs had slipped away into a more reverent tone, and Chester was singing with his eyes closed. Mike glanced down every so often but could play these melodies by memory, and so he concentrated on Chester’s face, his angel voice. _His voice sounds strong today. Clear, and healthy. He doesn’t sound any different from when we first started out. My Chester._

It didn’t even phase him anymore when those thoughts floated through his mind. He and Chester belonged to each other. His hands slowly drifted into the beginning of _Silent Night_ , and the gentle melody pulled Chester to him like a magnet, a few slow steps at a time. Mike didn’t need to scoot over, there was room, and Chester sat down. Eyes closed, his back to the piano, his hands resting on his thighs as Mike wove a moving line through the harmony, his hands caressing the keys expertly as Chester soaked it all in. The delicate melody dissolved into a minor key, and Mike closed his eyes too, his memory guiding his hands as Chester began to sing, softly, sweetly, his head leaning toward Mike. 

As it always did when they were alone, they lost all track of time, sliding from _Silent Night_ into _Oh, Holy Night_ , but this time it was Mike singing in his lower baritone instead of Chester’s tenor, and without thinking, Chester’s dropped his head to Mike’s shoulder, the peace of Mike’s voice embracing him. Halfway through he added his own harmony, not moving from Mike’s side, and the urge to snuggle in tight, to kiss Mike’s neck was there, but Chester held the line between them and simply let their voices melt together in the closest form of intimacy they could share. 

When Mike’s hands stopped, the magic lingered until Chester drew in a deep breath and sat himself up straight, reaching beside him to squeeze a hug across Mike’s shoulders. “That was perfect,” he breathed, and Mike’s stomach twisted at the feel of Chester’s warm breath as his lips grazed the outside of Mike’s ear. 

“It always is,” Mike whispered back, his heart heavy with a strange mixture of admiration and longing as Chester stood up, leaving a chill where his body heat had been. The magical atmosphere of the room faded away as Mike closed the lid on the piano and stood up to follow.

“You ready for this, Shinoda? You ready for this album and everything that’s going to come with it? It’s gonna get crazy after Christmas,” Chester said, motioning toward their tree. “Artwork and promos and interviews, you know. You ready to put my heart out there?” He didn’t look back at Mike.

The phrasing gave Mike pause. _That’s what I’ve done. I’ve put his heart into words. Maybe that’s why I’m so scared. People need to be kind. This is the core of who he is, and I’m just laying out there for everyone._ He sighed. “I’m ready if you are, Ches. And I’m right there with you. Every step of this, we’re in it together. Me and the guys, we’re behind you. I’m sure if you are.” Mike looked at Chester, his heart evident in his eyes. This album was going to be a big deal. He could feel it. He knew if the band listened to it today and gave it their stamp of approval, there was no going back. The shields around Chester’s heart and mind would be stripped away, his emotions bared for the world more than they ever had been before, and suddenly Mike felt an overwhelming urge to scrap the whole thing just to protect him. 

The sound of a key turning in the lock caught both their attention, and Chester was quick to say, “I’ve never been more sure in my life, Mike. 2017 is gonna kick ass.” They both turned to see Rob strolling in, shaking his head in the direction of Chester’s Christmas tree as Chester reached out and touched the star at the top, then flashed Mike a hopeful smile.


	41. Part Five: OML -- Invisible

**March 2, 2017**

Mike’s hands clutched at the front of Chester’s pajama shirt. “I can’t let you go back,” he whimpered, and it was all Chester could do not to shake him awake. Even though it was too dark in the hotel room to see Mike’s face, he knew there was a crease between his eyebrows, and his lips were turned down into a frown.

_Easy, easy, don’t wake him up. Don’t do anything to scare him._ Chester held Mike’s face carefully in both hands as he mumbled in his sleep. He was picking up words here and there, but most of what Mike was saying was indecipherable. Chester was too afraid to move to check the clock beside the bed, and he had no idea what time it was. He only knew that he’d been roused by Mike’s sleep talking, and tonight it sounded serious.

“Chester,” Mike breathed out.

“Right here, Mikey,” Chester responded softly, moving one hand up to stroke the soft hair he couldn’t see. He felt Mike’s hands relax their grip on his shirt slightly. “You’re okay. I’m okay. I’m not going back.” Tonight’s subject was one he’d heard already. It was about Chester leaving him to go to rehab, and even though he knew that time apart had been necessary, he felt guilty when the memories of it seemed to upset Mike.

“Ches,” Mike breathed again, and Chester inched his body closer to Mike’s. “I love you. Don’t leave me.” 

The wounded tone of Mike’s voice, made more raw from the raspiness brought on by sleep, stopped Chester’s heart. He sounded like an abandoned child. “Not leaving,” Chester whispered, pressing a kiss to Mike’s cheek.

He felt Mike’s hand leave the front of his shirt and slide behind his head, and Chester knew what was coming. He wanted it, to feel Mike’s lips on his again. It had been far too long. He’d dreamed about it in Utah, replayed the memories in Malibu. Through their separation Chester had tried to push away the memories but the more he tried, the more those outlines of memories became fully fleshed out and colored sketches, snapshots of intimate moments shared that only he could remember. All of that time away had been spent trying to work out if he was strong enough to stop wanting these secret moments between him and Mike.

And here they were, Mike’s warm, desperate breaths on his face, their legs tangled under the sheets and their hands in each other’s hair. Chester let their lips come together, allowed himself to kiss Mike back, pushing away any stray thoughts about whether it was right or wrong, whether it was good for his mental health or not. It didn’t matter. Even if Mike couldn’t admit his feelings in the light of day, Chester knew they were there. He could feel it. Nobody could kiss with that kind of passion and not mean it.

Their lips were swollen and raw before Chester heard Mike sigh, felt him bury his head in the space between Chester’s shoulder and his neck, pressing another kiss to the pulse that ran down the side of his neck. “I love you,” he whispered again.

Chester tightened his arms around Mike, holding him close and listening until he knew his friend was peacefully asleep. “I love you, too, Mike. And I can’t do a damn thing about it until you figure it out on your own. You’ve got to figure it out before it kills me.” He breathed in and out slowly, matching his breaths to Mike’s, finally falling back asleep as the morning sun started to creep through the edges of the closed window shades.

**********

The elevator doors slid closed, and Mike and Chester were alone for the first time in hours. Mike watched as Chester slumped against the back wall, his chin ducked to his chest and his sunglasses still covering his eyes. _I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well,_ had been Chester’s defense of the sunglasses, and Mike hadn’t wanted to argue with him about wearing them all day. Worry gnawed at his insides, though, as he wondered if lack of sleep was really the issue, or if Chester was feeling down again. He couldn’t bear to think they were on a downward spiral, but the interviews had been hard on the vocalist, and Mike was feeling extra protective. 

It didn’t register in Mike’s brain, the careful and calculated way he scanned Chester from head to toe, taking in each subtle detail as the elevator slowly rose to the top floor of their posh hotel. The diamond encircled ear gauges. The black nail polish, which had made its return to Mike’s delight. The wrist full of sparkly bracelets, and the tight dress shirt and even tighter white pants that Chester was wearing. The speed of his heartbeat, the way his licked over his dry lips, none of it registered as he watched the vocalist silently until the elevator doors opened and they started down the hallway, Mike one step in front of Chester. 

“If I have to answer why ‘Heavy’ isn’t heavy one more time, I might punch someone in the face,” Chester grumbled as he watched Mike slide the keycard through the slot in the hotel room door. “I’m fuckin’ tired of what everyone has to say about this _fucking_ album already. All these fuckin’ opinions. Fuck them. Fuck everyone.”

Mike pushed the door open and went inside, Chester following on his heels, his voice high and agitated as he flung his sunglasses onto the small table inside the door. 

“Do they even fuckin’ listen to the lyrics, Mike? I mean, _fuck._ Do we need to spell it out for them in big neon lights? It doesn’t have to have heavy guitars and shit to be heavy. Fuck everyone,” he said again, throwing himself down on the center of Mike’s king sized bed, smashing his face into the pillow and going still.

_Goddamn it. He’s going end right back up in Malibu if we’re not careful._ Mike pulled his wallet and cell phone from his front pockets and set them on the small table beside the bed before he scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving the carefully styled black strands in disarray. _I believe in these songs, but look at him. It’s hurting him. I’m hurting him. I didn’t mean for it to be this way._ With a soft sigh he sat down on the bed next to Chester, his hand automatically going out to the vocalist’s back. “Ches. You’ve got to stop taking this so personally. You’re gonna make yourself sick over this.” He rubbed his hand along Chester’s back, carefully keeping his thoughts on the idea of soothing his friend and not on each dip and curve of muscle he could feel under his hand.

Mike’s eyes drifted over Chester’s shoulders and studied his neck for a moment before he forced himself to turn his head and look out the uncovered window. He’d opened the curtains when they’d come back upstairs after breakfast earlier, when Chester had gone into his own room to call Talinda and Mike had sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about the upcoming interview. This was only one of many stops they were making on the promotional run, just him and Chester. The guys were all back in LA, starting rehearsals without them for the tour that started in May, and the whole thing had an air about it that felt uncertain. Mike wasn’t sure if something was off between him and Chester, or if it was the anxiety over the album, or the rest of the band’s absence… but things felt _off_. 

“Chester,” he coaxed, leaning forward and pressing his hand down firmly, trying to get some sort of response. “You’re doing great so far. I think we’re doing a good job talking about the album and how we made it and everything. You’re giving them just the right amount of detail without talking about how last year really was for you-”

“I was so close to just walking out of that last one.” Chester’s voice was muffled. He didn’t turn his face out of the pillow, nor did he offer any more words after he cut Mike off. Mike was still leaning over him and Chester could feel the invisible hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. 

“Well, you know we can’t do that,” Mike said, straightening a little bit as he inched closer and placed his other hand on Chester’s shoulder. “We’ve got a bunch of these to get through. If you want me to talk more, Ches, I can. But really, you’re doing great. It’s always like this, you know. Same questions, different interview.” He pressed his thumbs down between Chester’s shoulder blades and smiled at the soft whimper he heard in response. “Before you know it we’ll be past this part. There will be another single and then we’ll head out for that little South American tour and test the waters. You know it’s always like this in the beginning,” he said again. Methodically, Mike loosened the stress in Chester’s shoulders, leaning into his hands to increase the pressure the way he knew the vocalist liked it best. 

They were quiet for a while, Chester breathing slowly through his mouth with his face still buried in the pillow, and Mike calmly breathing through slightly parted, slightly damp lips that he kept unconsciously running the tip of his tongue over. _He just needs to relax. To realize that it always take a while for the album to grow on people. It’s going to be okay. It always is._

As he massaged Chester’s back, he let his mind drift through the past months, the wrapping of the album, the final listening and approval of the label, the artwork and packaging and promotional ideas. It was one of his favorite parts of a new release, finishing the product. The artwork that went along with the music. The late night conversations and early morning meetings that he and Chester always seemed to have. They had just finalized some tour decisions and just needed to get the promo work completed so people would actually buy tickets to their shows. It was something he and Chester had gotten good at over the years, interviewing together. The fans loved their banter. It was easy, it was natural. It was comfortable, and Mike was having a hard time figuring out why Chester was letting this part of the process get under his skin. That passionate defiance Chester was letting leak out in interviews was something Mike hadn’t seen from him since they were a new band, trying to prove themselves. 

He didn’t know how much time passed in thought, as his massage slowed into gentle strokes, before Chester roused himself, carefully rolling onto his back with his eyes closed. As soon as Chester started to move, Mike pulled his hands back, but Chester reached up to capture one and pull it close to his body, nestling Mike’s fingers close to his heart. 

“Thanks,” he whispered, squeezing Mike’s hand. “I know it’s always a shit show in the beginning. And usually I can shake it off. But this album is so fucking personal, Mike. It’s hard to not let it get to me.” He shook his head back and forth a few times on the pillow before he cracked his eyes open and looked up into Mike’s dark, concerned eyes. “You’ll know what I mean when they start tearing apart _Invisible._ When they take something about your kids and unravel it and pick at it and try to make you talk about what you meant when you wrote it. I hate that. I hate it when they want to know the story. I love how we’ve always said, it’s whatever you want it to be. You know? Let the fans decide what it means to them. But when it’s about your heart, it hurts.”

Their eyes held and Mike swallowed, thinking carefully about what to say next. Whether he _should_ say what he was thinking, or just let Chester assume that he was telling the truth about the lyrics to that particular song. What he should do and what he wanted to do were in direct conflict with each other, though, and the longer Mike looked down at his best friend, the naked vulnerability in his eyes, the harder it was to keep any secret from him. It felt as though Chester had asked him a question and was waiting hopefully for an answer, and Mike couldn’t disappoint him. 

“It’s not really about my kids, Ches,” he started tentatively, tugging his hand away gently to trace a heart on the front of Chester’s black and white dress shirt. He meant to smooth the wrinkles away from the front of the shirt, but the heart was what came out instead. He felt Chester’s eyes trying to decipher the meaning of his last words as they looked at each other. A few seconds ticked slowly by. 

“It’s about us, isn’t it?” Chester asked softly, and Mike simply nodded, unable to look away. “I knew it was, Mike. It’s obvious to me… but don’t worry about it,” he went on after seeing the panic in Mike’s eyes. “Nobody knows _us_ the way I do.” A small smile crossed his lips as he breathed a barely audible chuckle. “Well, except for you. You and I know me and you better than anyone else. And when I first heard that demo, I knew you were talking to me. And I bet you wrote it after you came to see me in Utah… right?”

Mike felt the flush spread across his face and he dropped his eyes for the first time since Chester had turned over to face him. “I wrote it on the plane coming home,” he sighed. “Damn. Is it that transparent?”

“No,” Chester whispered. The room suddenly felt warmer as they watched each other. “I know because I know you, Mikey. I’ve listened to you sing that song and I’ve wondered what was on your mind. What you were thinking about when you wrote those lyrics. I looked in your little notebook, but… maybe it would be better if you just told me.” He waited a few seconds, thinking about the night before, about Mike’s whimpered declarations and kisses, before he added, “you _can_ tell me, you know. The words you wanted to tell me then… if you could go back, if we were sitting on that bench outside again, and I was holding your hand… what would you say? What were you too scared to tell me?”

There were years of unspoken words on Mike’s tongue, but his brain was having a hard time stringing any of them together as he watched Chester speak. He hesitated, his fingertips still absently stroking over the front of Chester’s shirt. _How much is too much to say right now?_ he wondered, trying to get a feel for where their conversation was headed. 

As he struggled with his thoughts, Chester kept talking, his voice smooth and calm. “When I came back from Malibu, I told you how I was feeling, what I was thinking. And it was before I listened to these demos, Mike. And you know, once I did, it validated everything I had been thinking. About me, about my life, about us, the band… and I just want to hear it from you, not through song lyrics, Mike. Tell me what you were thinking when you wrote _Invisible._ ”

_It’s like he knows it’s more than what the lyrics say. So what difference does it make if I just admit it? I don’t know if I can._ With a sigh, Mike pulled his hand back and started to twist his wedding band, the way he always did when he was nervous. “I don’t know, Ches. You were so upset about everything, your ankle, the tour, the meds and the drinking… having to go back to rehab… and you thought I was upset, but I wasn’t mad at you. I… I was scared for you. I’d been trying so hard to keep everything afloat and we were just barely scraping by… and there were those nights in the hotel, and waking up with you, I just… I don’t know.” He stood up suddenly and escaped over to the open window, his heart racing with anxiety. “I felt like I didn’t do enough. I felt like I’d let you down. I didn’t know how to make things better and I never know how much is too much, or not enough, Chester.” 

He could feel Chester watching him even though he was turned toward the window. “I felt like I could have done better for you. That’s all. That maybe if I’d been there more you wouldn’t have needed the pills. Or the drinks. That maybe you felt alone in all of it. That I was the reason you were so unhappy.” Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m always afraid, have been from the very beginning, that I’m doing this all wrong. I’m pushing you too much, too hard. And at that point, when I was trying to make you better, and I realized you were drinking again, I thought that maybe you were relapsing because I was overbearing.”

“It wasn’t about you, Mike,” Chester said. _At least, not the way you’re thinking._

Mike shook his head. “But… even listening to you talk just now about the interviews, my head automatically thinks that I’m the one hurting you. That I never should have written the songs, used your words… then you wouldn’t have to defend them.” He turned to face Chester, both hands clenched in fists. “I’d hate myself if I was the reason you’re unhappy, Chester. I’m not ever trying to be the one to bring you down. You, our friendship… it’s the most important thing to me. Not the band, but you and me. I don’t want any of this without you. And I’m always terrified that I’m one step away from ruining it all.” 

Chester sat up on the bed, his mouth dropping open in surprise. “You could never ruin this, Mike. I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his palms on his thighs. “I wouldn’t be here without you,” he admitted quietly. “I’d have given up a long time ago if it wasn’t for you. I meant it when I told you I was afraid to go home, Mike. I knew I couldn’t be alone.”

Mike exhaled sharply, his hands falling slack as the tension rushed out of his body. “Ches… you’ve got Tal, you’ve got the kids…” His voice trailed off and they looked at each other. There was a heaviness in the air, full of unspoken words and feelings and thoughts that they still weren’t ready to admit even though they were getting closer and closer to the tipping point. 

“But nothing feels as right as you and me together. You said it yourself. That you were incomplete when I was gone. That’s how I felt, too, Mikey.” Chester looked up at the ceiling for a second, measuring his words before he blurted out, “you know, I thought about this while I was gone.” He swept a hand out over the bed. “About us sleeping together… and how I know that’s not normal. How the guys wouldn’t understand. But nothing about us is ‘normal’. We’ve never fit inside anyone else’s mold. And I want it to be okay, that I missed you.” He blew out a breath and laughed. “Jesus, Mike, how did we end up talking about this? How did we go from me being upset about everyone hating the album to this?”

The atmosphere lifted a bit and Mike smiled too. “Nobody has heard the album,” Mike pointed out, flipping a hand through the air as he said, “so they don’t hate it. They can’t have an opinion yet. And we end up back here, talking about _us_ more and more, Ches. I don’t know how, or why, but we do. And as far as this thing we do, out on the road, I can honestly say that I miss it when I’m home. I don’t know when it happened, but home feels a lot less like home when you aren’t there.” He knew his face was covered in a full on blush, but he powered through, suddenly feeling compelled to get some of the mixed feelings he’d been battling for years out in the open. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we ever stop touring. We’ll have to have sleepovers, or something.” 

Chester’s eyes snapped to Mike’s as he barked a laugh, incredulous. “Sleepovers. Your brain is so amazing and infuriating, Shinoda. I can just see that happening.” He stood up and walked over to Mike, stopping a foot in front of him, his eyes ghosting over Mike’s lips as he thought about how it would feel to go for it, to kiss him right now. “The way I see it, we’re just going to have to keep making music so we can be together. You keep writing me songs and I’ll keep singing them, okay?”

They looked at each other for a moment before Mike asked, “you sure you want me to do that?” His hand went out to touch the buttons on Chester’s shirt. “This whole conversation started because you’re tired of answering questions about the shit I write. You know if I keep writing that you’re going to have to keep talking.” He focused on the small buttons and avoided Chester’s eyes. Avoided the emotions that came with admitting he cared more about keeping Chester in his bed than what Linkin Park was doing. 

“I’m just whining Mike. You know that. It’s just about dumb shit. Interviews are irritating at times. I know how amazing you are, and I want everyone to listen to your words and love them as much as I do. I want there to just be one album we don’t have to go out and defend, you know?” He covered Mike’s hand with his own and pressed it against his chest. 

Mike nodded slowly, feeling Chester’s heart beating steadily under his fingers. “I do know. But we’ve known all along that we’d be defending everything we do. It’s never been easy for us.” He looked up and caught Chester’s eyes; they were abnormally dark, full of emotions that Mike didn’t try to process. It was easier to pretend he didn’t see the intensity lurking in their chocolate brown depths. 

“No, it hasn’t,” Chester agreed, lacing their fingers together. “But as long as we’re defending it together, I guess I can make it through another interview. And another, and another. As long as I’ve got you.” 

“You’ve always got me, Ches. Always.” Mike tugged on their hands, bringing Chester close and wrapping his arms around the vocalist’s shoulders to bring him in for a hug. They leaned together for a moment before Mike asked, “are you feeling better? We’ve got the rest of the night off, you know. If you’re up for it, we should go out to dinner instead of staying up here.” He stepped back and glanced at his watch.

“I’m less irritated by that interview, yeah. I’m still tired as hell. But yeah, let’s go out. But somewhere close, I don’t want to be out late.” Chester turned away, his eyes moving over the messed up bed covering before he picked up Mike’s wallet and phone from the bedside table. “Here,” he said, handing them over to Mike. “Let’s get out of here. The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get back and get showers and crawl into this giant bed together.” Their eyes met in understanding. All they wanted to do was crawl in bed beside each other, to take advantage of being out on the road. 

_It’s been ten years,_ Mike thought suddenly. _Ten years since we started sleeping together. And I can’t imagine what things would be like if we hadn’t fallen asleep together that night. I can’t imagine how we would be different._

Mike pocketed his phone and wallet, then reached for Chester’s hand. “Come on, then. Let’s go eat.” He didn’t let himself think about snuggling up to Chester later as they walked hand in hand back to the elevator.

**********

The next morning, Chester’s eyes eased open in the darkness of the hotel room. He could feel Mike sprawled next to him, their body heat warming the sheets between them. He could barely make out the outline of his sleeping companion, the back of Mike’s head to him as the emcee slept on his stomach, one arm tucked up under the pillow, the other stretched out in front of him. 

_If you felt invisible, I won’t let you feel that now._

He scooted closer in the bed, snuggling his body up against Mike’s back, wrapping one arm around his friend’s waist and sharing his pillow. _You’ve never made me feel invisible. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be… as wrong as that probably is, it’s the truth. And sometimes I can see that look in your eyes that tells me, you feel the same way. I know I’m not imagining that. But you’re never going to let yourself realize it, are you? This is as much as we are ever going to get. These secret nights in hotel rooms. This is all I’m going to get._

Mike didn’t open his eyes, lifting his hand to cover Chester’s on his stomach when he felt it land there. “‘Morning, Ches,” he mumbled sleepily. “Is it time to get up?”

Chester closed his eyes. “No… go back to sleep, Mikey.” There were still two hours left before they had to get ready to catch their next flight. _Two more hours… and I’m not going to miss out on one second of this._


	42. Part Five: OML -- Worries

**April 10, 2017**

Mike grinned as Chester rubbed his hands over his own body, singing out, “I want, sexual healing… sexual _healing._ ”

“Yeah, picture it, picture it,” Mike said, playing along, nodding his head and squeezing his eyes shut in mock bliss. His hands were still tingling from where he’d grabbed onto Chester’s knee just a few moments ago. 

Brad rolled his eyes at the pair on the couch and said playfully, “we have zero points, you guys. Zero. What’s the next question?” He turned to the interviewer expectantly.

“What color is Chester’s favorite underwear?”

The dancing and rubbing stopped and Mike felt stunned for a moment, his eyes wide before he looked across Chester to lock eyes with Brad. _I can’t talk about Chester’s underwear on camera!_

“Sparkly?” Brad said with a shrug. He looked as though he had never once considered the color of his own underwear, much less Chester’s.

“Is rainbow a color?” Mike laughed uncomfortably and kept his eyes on Brad, even though he could suddenly feel Chester’s body heat next to him. On his arm. His thigh. Their knees kept touching and Mike couldn’t stop thinking about how their knees touched under the blankets in hotel beds.

Chester giggled. “Rainbow _is_ my favorite color, by the way, that’s what I tell my kids.” He looked back and forth between Brad and Mike, leaning more in Mike’s direction.

Suddenly Brad had the look of epiphany. “Sparkly rainbow!” he exclaimed.

“I _wish_ I had-” Chester started, but was interrupted by Mike’s thoughts, and he turned his gaze from Brad back to Mike as his sentence drifted away. 

“I feel like he has a bunch of red, like bright red underwear, though,” Mike said slowly. “I think that’s a real thing.” He tried to look nonchalant, but the question had thrown him. _What color are Chester’s favorite underwear. That’s as bad as asking what I sing when I feel sexy in the shower. Sexy in the shower! Damn Chester, over there touching himself…_

“Ok. Let’s go with that. I trust you.” Brad sat back and looked at their interviewer. 

Mike woke with a start, his eyes jumping open and blinking rapidly in the darkness of the bedroom, his heart racing. He blew out a deep breath before he looked over at Anna. _Thank goodness she’s still asleep. I wake her up way too much. All these dreams lately…_

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a deep breath, acutely awake of the erection he’d woken with, his brain scrambling to put his dream in order. _Fucking bandmate game. Such stupid questions. And the way Brad was looking at me, and Chester all up on my side… That was weeks ago, and look at me._ He scrubbed his hands over the top of his head and stood up, reaching down to adjust himself through his boxer briefs as he made his way across the bedroom and stepped into the bathroom.

There was a soft glow from the nightlight next to Anna’s vanity, and Mike didn’t turn the light on. He glanced in the mirror briefly, barely able to make out the small dark spots of his nipples against the nearly hairless pale skin of his chest in the dim lighting. He stood at his sink for a moment, a little disoriented, as the memory of Chester’s body beside his faded and his mind became more alert, the dreamy arousal he’d woken with calming as well. 

_If Chester knew how many times I’ve woken up with a hard on because of him…_ Mike stopped himself from going down that road. _That’s not normal, Mike. Dreaming about your best friend and waking up ready to jerk off is not normal. Even if you’re secretly in love with him. Secretly in love and can’t do anything about it but jerk off to your own screwed up thoughts._ He pulled a face and tried to think about anything other than the way Chester’s neck looked when he laughed in his dream. _I just want to bite his neck. Just once. God. He’d think I was insane. I don’t think I could get away with that, even if we were teasing and messing around._

He splashed a little water on his face and brushed his teeth, then took care of the rest of his bathroom business. _Why am I even thinking about this? Let’s say he was in love with me, too. What would happen then? Nothing. Not one thing, with all the kids and our wives and the band… what would everyone say? What would my parents say?_ Mike wrinkled his nose as he thought of his parents. He was one hundred percent sure that they loved Chester like a son. A son, not a son-in-law. _Jesus. Stop this, now. You are a wreck._

He crept out of the bathroom and reached for his pajama shirt and robe on the chair in the corner, tugging the shirt over his head and sliding the robe on as he made his way back across the bedroom, stealing out into the quiet hallway and catching the time on his iPhone as he did. It was far too early for the kids to be awake, and he figured he had at least another hour before Anna woke up. 

_Which studio? Do I feel like actual work or not?_ Mike hesitated in the hallway, trying to decide what he wanted to do. There were some bits of ideas he could play with on the computer, or he could just escape into his art room and not think. He felt a pull toward the art room and gave in, peeking his head into each of the children’s rooms on his way down the hall. Everyone was sleeping soundly, except for him. _Thanks to Ches. I can’t sleep through the night without him._

They’d been home just a few days - two? - Mike struggled to remember, and it was torturous to his system. Back and forth he went at night, missing Chester and trying to push that away to give attention to his wife. On this early morning he felt the guilt that came with knowing he’d been miles away as they’d made love last night. With his mind not really focused on Anna, and trying not to focus on Chester, he’d been in a sort of blank space, going through the motions that years of marriage sometimes afforded him. He didn’t know if Anna knew anything was off or not. She’d fallen asleep curled on her side next to him and he’d run countless melodies in his head as he tried to turn off his thoughts. All that had lead to was one of an ever increasing number of dreams about Chester. 

Mike stepped into his art studio. The overhead lights were always a shock to his system when he went into the room late at night or early in the morning. He couldn’t remember now how much he’d spent having special lights installed to mimic natural outdoor lighting, in addition to the bright fluorescents he preferred sometimes, depending on what materials he was working with. With a flip of the natural lighting switch he brought the room into focus, the welcome smell of acrylic and plaster, canvas and watercolor, marker and oil pastel all mixed inside the studio. Mike knew exactly what he was looking for as he pulled out a drawer and shoved his hand under the top few sketchbooks.

The book he pulled out had a soft black cover, the edges worn from travel. It was his book of Chester, the little sketches that came out on the road, or when Mike was alone at home and missing his friend. A book full of moments, snapshots of memories, bits and parts of their lives together translated into Mike’s drawings. He didn’t linger over the pages he’d already filled, but flipped to a clean one and started lining out a scene from his dream, from that silly interview, of Chester laughing next to him. He was engrossed in his work when a sound in the doorway snapped his attention away from the sketch.

It was Anna, a soft smile on her face, two coffee cups in her hand. “Morning, honey. How long have you been awake?” She took a step into the studio and Mike closed the sketchbook, sliding it away from him and standing to meet her.

“Couldn’t sleep, I’ve been up a few hours,” he answered, checking the time with his phone. “Thanks,” he said, reaching for the coffee cup she was holding out. He breathed in the scent of fresh coffee as Anna reached up and moved the hair aside that had fallen across his forehead as he worked.

“You never sleep well,” she commented absently, her fingers brushing softly over his cheek and along his facial hair. “I don’t know how you do it. How you can do all the things you do as restlessly as you sleep. I worry about you,” she said, one finger crossing over his bottom lip.

“I’m fine, you know how it is. A few hours rest and my brain is ready to go again.” Mike didn’t back away from Anna’s caress but he didn’t lean into it either. They looked at each other for a long moment before Anna sighed and took a step back, motioning toward the table beside them.

“What are you working on?” She took a sip from her cup and looked at the sketchbook curiously. She recognized it as the book Mike carried with him on tour, but she’d never seen what was inside.

Mike cut his eyes over to the sketchbook and his eyebrows drew together in what looked like concern. “Just fucking around. Cover art for singles we’ve got coming out this year. Nothing too exciting yet.” He leaned against the table, blocking the book from his wife’s view. “What’s in your plan for today?” he asked, neatly switching the subject. “We’ve got rehearsal most of the day, it’s just a few weeks until we leave out. Lots of kinks to work out.” He blew across his coffee cup before he took his first drink of the morning.

Anna didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, taking her time to think as she sipped her coffee. “After I drop the kids at school I’ve got yoga and then I’m stopping at the grocery. I was thinking spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Unless you wanted something else. Or… will you even be home for dinner?” She cocked her head to the side and waited.

“Yeah. I’ll be home. And meatballs sound fine. You make amazing meatballs, honey.” Mike added a smile to the end of his statement before he looked over at the window. The morning light was trying to creep in through the blackout curtains he had covering them. “Let me clean up some in here and I’ll be down to help with breakfast.”

“Clean up?” Anna echoed, looking around. The studio was tidy, the way Mike always kept the space. 

He smiled at his wife, sweeping his hand around the room. “I probably won’t be back in here doing anything until after the summer tour. I just want to make sure everything is in its place, nice and organized, before I run out of time. You know how it is, leading up to tour. I’ll be busy, and nothing will drive me crazier than thinking I’ve left this place a mess.”

Anna shook her head at him, rolling her eyes. “Fine, do what you need to do to help you relax on the road. But don’t take too long. I could use your help with the waffles while I’m making bacon.”

Mike felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. “Yes, bacon. Give me fifteen minutes, okay? And I’ll be on waffle duty before the kids get up.” He looked up just in time to meet Anna’s lips in a soft kiss. _Do what I need to do. If you only knew the only place I can sleep now is out on the road._

“Fifteen, Mike. I’m holding you to that,” she said as she backed away, winking at him. “I’ll send Josie in to get you if you aren’t down in time. And you know how much she loves to paint in Papa’s art room.” There was a little hint of evilness in Anna’s smile as she threatened Mike playfully.

“Fourteen minutes, then,” Mike answered, setting his coffee cup down and opening a drawer to put away some stray supplies on the table. “I love you.” 

Anna watched Mike pick up the sketchbook and look at it for a moment before he set it back down and looked at her. “Love you, too,” she said, turning down the hallway.

Mike looked after her for a minute, then picked up the sketchbook. “You’re going in the other studio,” he decided aloud, carefully placing it on his chair. He finished cleaning up and wiping down his table, making sure everything was in its place before he flipped off the light, grabbing his coffee and the sketchbook before he closed the door. Nobody was allowed inside when he wasn’t home. He could only imagine the mess that would greet him if the kids weren’t such good rule followers.

On his way downstairs he stopped in the studio, sliding the sketchbook into the drawer with Chester’s notebook from rehab. He’d get back to his sketch later. Patting the drawer closed, Mike pushed away the thought that he was actively trying to hide the sketchbook from Anna. _I’m just keeping things together, organized._ Right now, it was family time, what little he had before it was time to head out to rehearsal. 

He shut the door to his studio and headed for the stairs, the sound of his kids’ chatter drifting up to him. A smile hit his lips at the thought of making waffles and bacon, sitting at the table with his family, and enjoying the chaos before work. He neatly put thoughts of Chester away into the space in his mind where they stayed - mostly - while he was a dad and a husband. It was becoming harder and harder to keep those thoughts locked away.

**********

Everyone was in great moods once they all got to the studio, and Mike was grateful for it as he looked around at his bandmates. They were in the stage part of rehearsing now, the set list having finally been completed after their last debate, and all their gear was set up in the large rehearsal space the way they wanted it on stage. 

He watched from the couch as his, Brad’s, and Dave’s techs moved around the set, making sure they had every guitar and bass they could possibly want within reach. All of their guys had been around for a while, which was a relief when it came to getting things ready for tour. The only wildcard was Rob’s new drum tech. He couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if he was lucky, his longer blonde hair bleached by the sun and glittering blue eyes. Josh was his name, Mike reminded himself, watching him for a few minutes as he tested things out behind the drum set.

“He looks like he knows what he’s doing, Bourdie,” Mike commented quietly to the drummer, who was sitting beside him unwrapping a muffin. 

“Yeah. He came pretty highly recommended,” Rob agreed, his eyes drifting over to Josh for a moment. “We’ll see how it goes, losing Will right before this tour is tough.”

Mike nodded. “I’d hate to be training someone new this close to going out on the road.”

“That’s why it’s good to just be the singer, man,” Chester piped up, butting in to the conversation without looking up from the game on his phone. “Just show up and go where Mike tells you. That’s all I have to do.”

“What! That’s not true!” Mike protested, but was immediately shut down by the entire rest of the band.

“Oh, you know it’s true, Shinoda,” Dave said, with Brad nodding alongside him emphatically. They were both holding smoothie cups from the place next door in their hands, but everyone knew that Dave’s was full of sugar and Brad’s was some vegan natural green thing that nobody else would touch. “We _all_ just show up and do what you say.” Dave winked at Mike to be sure to indicate that he was just playing along with Chester, but Mike wasn’t having it.

“This is a democracy,” Mike insisted, throwing his hands around and almost knocking Rob’s muffin from his hand. He didn’t miss the narrowed eyed glare the drummer shot his direction. “I didn’t hit your precious muffin,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“What’s in that muffin?” Brad asked suddenly, his attention on Rob.

“Umm… carrots, I think. It’s totally vegan,” Rob said, shoving the rest of the muffin in his mouth before Brad could get a closer look.

“I don’t know why you feel like you have to be the ultimate vegan police around here,” Dave said, his attention also moving away from Mike’s minor freak out onto Brad. “Bourdie’s a big boy. If he needs your help, he’ll ask.”

“That’s just it,” Brad said with exasperation in his voice. “He _did_ ask!”

“It’s just one muffin,” Joe reasoned as he balanced a plate of muffins on his legs. 

“You could use a little bit of help, too, you know,” Brad said, pointing a finger at the deejay. 

Joe shrugged. “I’m gonna enjoy my muffins. If it cuts a year off my life, so be it. Can’t be worse than Shinoda and his bacon.”

All eyes except Chester’s were back on Mike. “What?” he fussed, standing up. “It’s not like I have bacon every day or anything.”

“What did you have for breakfast this morning, Mikey?” Chester asked with his nose still buried in Clash of Clans. 

Mike didn’t answer, just stomped off in the direction of his keyboard to the sound of the guy’s laughter behind him. _Bacon, with a side of missing you._ He bit down on his bottom lip and tried to erase the thoughts plaguing him. _It’s getting to be more and more, and I don’t know why! It’s the nail polish. I’ve always been a sucker for the nail polish. I wonder who’s been painting his nails for him?_

He started playing around on his keyboard, all of his thoughts muddled and confusing. He didn’t even look up as the rest of the band made their way into the actual rehearsal space, didn’t spare a glance Chester’s way as he stood over the set list on the ground. He didn’t seen Josh’s brilliant smile as he handed drumsticks off to Rob, or Rob’s answering shy smile. He didn’t see Joe cram a whole muffin into his mouth in one bite, or Dave pick up his bass from the rack himself, or Brad fuss with his headphones. All Mike could see was the piano keys under his fingers as he played the chords that repeated themselves over and over in _Heavy_.

“Mike?” 

The way Chester called his name as he stepped close to the keyboard perch made him realize he’d been zoned out. “What’s that? Sorry, Ches, I was just thinking-”

“I was joking, you know,” Chester said softly, just for Mike to hear. “About you ordering me around.”

“Oh, I know,” Mike said airily, his eyes still on the keyboard.

“Well… okay,” Chester said uncertainly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. I’d never just let you boss me around, you know.”

Mike looked up to see the glint of amusement in the vocalist’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile back, all of his irritation gone in an instant. “No? And here I was thinking I was in control around here.”

“Maybe around here,” Chester agreed, tossing his arm out and spinning it around the room. “But with you and me, we’re equals. Always have been. Always will be.” He stopped to shoot Mike a meaningful look, then broke out into a toothy grin. “Now, where do you want me, Shinoda?” he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Mike didn’t miss a beat. “Get your ass over there in front of me like you always do, Bennington. Get where I can see you,” he growled playfully. Chester stepped away, and Mike could swear he saw a little sway in his hips as he went. 

The rehearsal went as planned, more or less, with an occasional stop to swap out equipment or debate whether they wanted to change a song to make it fresh. The middle of the set, always Mike’s favorite due to his alone time with Chester, had been changed to include Brad now, and he wasn’t too sure how he felt about _Sharp Edges_ in the middle of the set.

“I don’t know, it just kinda fucks up my vibe,” Mike said when they stopped again. 

Joe sighed from where he, Rob, and Dave were sitting on the couch, waiting to be needed again. “Why? Because Brad’s up there in the middle of you two?”

Mike’s mouth hung open as he looked around the group. “I don’t - I mean… I don’t know. It just feels weird. Doesn’t it feel weird to you, Chester?” Mike turned pleading eyes on the vocalist, who looked torn.

“Well, it _is_ usually just me and you,” Chester started slowly, like he was thinking about each word as he spoke. “I mean, we can always move _Sharp Edges_ to the encore.”

“Yes,” Mike said with relief, running his hand through his hair and looking back at the group on the couch, avoiding Brad’s gaze. “Yes, let’s try that. So we’ll go _Breaking the Habit, One More Light, Crawling, Leave Out All the Rest._ ” Moving Brad to the encore to do the acoustic guitar version of the new album’s ending track with Chester just made more sense to him. 

“Fuck,” Dave said. “You take out _Sharp Edges_ and that whole a capella section is dark.”

“That’s why we put _Sharp Edges_ where we did,” Brad pointed out stubbornly. “It was to break up all that heaviness. _One More Light_ into that piano version of _Crawling_ is like… too much.” 

Rob nodded thoughtfully. “That is a lot, Chester. How do you feel about all that right there in the middle of the set?” He didn’t need to say what they were all thinking - were those four songs, one after the other, too much for Chester to cope with mentally?

Chester turned and caught Mike’s dark eyes on him. Mike looked like someone had just kicked his puppy as he realized that taking Brad out of the middle part of the set just to keep him alone on stage with Chester was selfish. But Chester’s thoughts were already justifying the change, even as Mike was reconsidering. _Mike will be there. It’s not like I’m alone with those thoughts. It’s just songs. And he’ll be right there with me. When it’s over, he’ll be with me in the hotel. He won’t leave me alone. I can do it. And if that’s the best flow of the set list in his opinion, that’s what we’re gonna do. Whatever Mike says, that’s what I want._

Mike was looking right back at Chester, and they were talking without the rest of the band. _Is it too much, Ches? Can you do it? I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with._ Chester wet his bottom lip with his tongue, and Mike’s eyes reflexively followed the motion before he forced himself to look back into the vocalist’s eyes.

“It’s fine,” Chester said finally, his eyes locked into Mike’s. “I don’t even think about the words when I’m singing them.” He brushed his hand over the top of his shaved head and then fidgeted with the sparkly plug in his left ear. 

Mike knew it was a lie. They’d talked about it before, how hard it was to sing _Breaking the Habit_ sometimes. He knew that all of those songs were mentally taxing, and he felt guilty for not saying anything to add the lighter song back into the middle of the set as the guys all shrugged and nodded, agreeing with Chester. 

Rehearsal continued after that, Mike trying to keep his thoughts on the music and not worry over Chester. They experimented with Mike opening _Leave Out All the Rest_ and decided to leave it that way, finishing out the rest of the regular set, taking a break before trying the encore. Another hour of debate and rehearsal passed before Chester declared he was finished singing for the day, and they’d have to do the rest without him if they wanted to argue some more.

“Nah, I’ve reached my limit, too,” Brad said, throwing an exasperated look at Mike. “We’ll all come back with clearer thoughts after some time at home.” He pulled his headphones down to sit around his neck and put his hands on his skinny hips. “I think it’s coming together, though. By the time we get these rehearsals done, it should be pretty tight.”

Mike didn’t comment as everyone started to hand off gear to end rehearsal. He knew he could keep going, but he was always like that. If he got his way, they’d rehearse until midnight and he’d never even realize it. _Everyone goes home and relaxes, and I’m working still. I can’t help it. And I can’t sleep, and it’s another week before we go to Germany for promos and I’ll be with Ches again. Another week of barely getting any sleep._ He sighed as he stepped down from his perch and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

There was a message from Anna, which he skimmed quickly, about to answer when he felt Chester’s hand on his shoulder.

“Mike. You look tired,” Chester said, rubbing his hand along Mike’s shoulder blades. 

It was all Mike could do not to lean back into Chester’s arms. “Yeah… you know,” Mike agreed quietly. Before he could stop himself, he added, “I miss you,” his voice low and husky.

Their eyes met and locked, their faces just inches from each other, and it was all Chester could do not to look down at Mike’s pouty bottom lip. He knew if he did, he might not be able to stop himself from pulling Mike in close and just taking the chance. “I miss you, too,” Chester whispered, squeezing his fingertips into Mike’s back. “Just a few more weeks, you know. And there’s a couple of promo stops on the way. It’ll be here before you know it.”

Mike nodded, looking away when he felt Brad’s eyes on them. “I know. I’ll try to sleep,” he added, pulling away from Chester’s arm. 

“You can always call me if you can’t sleep,” Chester reminded him as he watched Mike shove a notebook into his backpack. 

“I know,” Mike said evenly, and Chester gave up, slinging the strap of his messenger bag over his head as he said goodbye and headed out the door. He held in the sigh that wanted to escape as he watched Chester go, and then Brad was at his side. 

“Everything okay?” Brad asked, watching Mike carefully. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick about _Sharp Edges_ I just-”

Mike held up a hand. “Everything’s fine, Brad. You know how it is. We all worry. Worry about his voice and about the lyrics and everything else. But he says it’s fine, so it is.” He challenged Brad to take the conversation further. He knew that Brad knew the exchange between himself and Chester wasn’t about the setlist, but he didn’t know if Brad would insist on knowing what was happening. Mike didn’t even know if he could explain it anyway.

_I’m in love with Chester and I can’t sleep without him. I’m miserable being at home and I just want to go back out on the road. And Chester knows how much I miss him but he doesn’t know I dream about him and think about being with him. What do you think about that, Brad? Aren’t you glad you asked?_ Mike blinked a few times and tried to imagine Brad’s reaction if he just told the truth.

“Okay, well… we’ll see how it goes tomorrow, I’m sure it will all be fine.” Brad patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave. “You coming?”

Mike looked around. Rob was tied up in explaining something to Josh, and Dave and Joe were headed for the exit. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ve got spaghetti and meatballs and three little ones waiting on me to show up. I promised I’d be home for dinner.”

Brad nodded. “Then let’s go. We both need all the family time we can get before this tour starts up. We’re out, Bourdie!” he called over to the drummer as they walked by.

Rob simply waved in their direction before he moved around the side of the drum set, pointing something else out to his new tech that he didn’t like.

They walked outside in silence, and Mike already had his hand on the door of his car when Brad called his name. He looked over to see a worried expression on the guitarist’s face. “What’s up?” he responded, pausing before he opened the door.

“Make sure you give those babies some hugs from Uncle Brad. It seems like it’s been ages since I’ve seen them. I’m glad you’re going home. Stay out of your studio. You need the rest.” Brad opened the door of his car and tossed in his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll be here,” Mike responded as his phone vibrated. He looked down to see the incoming call from Chester, and he couldn’t hold back the smile as he waved at Brad and climbed in his own car, hitting accept on the phone as he shut the door. “Hey, Ches,” he breathed, starting the car and letting the phone connect to bluetooth. 

“I was just thinking, if you missed me so much, you should talk to me on your way home. You know, it totally makes sense.” Chester’s voice sounded tinny and thin through the car speakers, but it still sparked Mike’s heart anyway.

“Perfect,” Mike said, putting the car in reverse and watching the rearview camera as he backed out. Without thinking, he took a right turn out of the parking lot, committing to the long route home. “Tell me all the things,” he said, settling into his seat, thoughts of spaghetti and meatballs, children, and home suddenly far from his mind.


	43. Part Five: OML -- The Catalyst

**June 14, 2017**

Mike was laying in the bed, his phone plugged into the charger next to him. He’d already called Anna, spoken with the kids, and was in a file on Chester’s laptop, going over some notes Chester had asked him to read while he waited for the vocalist to come to bed. He could feel Chester’s presence in the shower on the other side of the wall, and he tried to keep his mind off the image of Chester’s slick, naked body under the water. _Tomorrow night we’re in the bus. It will be two nights before I can have him with me again._

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Chester’s face behind his tired eyelids. The shows were going great. Everything was tight. Chester’s voice was holding up so far, and the crowd was receiving the new songs decently well. They were even feeling inspired enough to write new lyrics, and had started between the end of the South American tour and the beginning of the European tour. Somehow he’d managed to talk Chester into getting some work done in the short break they’d had at home. They hadn’t gone a single day without seeing each other in the two week break, and Mike figured they ought to have something to show for it, even if he did feel a little guilty for pushing so hard. He’d told himself he’d try to go easier on Chester’s voice while they were touring, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. 

_”Come on, Ches. Let’s just track a little. I know we haven’t even really started the tour for this album yet, but I have this idea in my head…” He turned his pleading eyes onto Chester, who was laying across the gray studio couch with his feet up, his phone in his hands. They’d been home from Brazil for two days, only four dates of the_ One More Light _tour completed, but Mike was already thinking about new music and a new record. A new tour. A promise that there would be a continuation of what they had._

_“You never stop, do you?” Chester responded with a bit of a sigh, swinging his feet around to the floor anyway. “Stop looking at me like that, you know I’m never going to tell you no.” He stood up and stretched, his shirt pulling up and exposing a strip of pale, unmarked skin across his stomach. Skin that Mike had seen hundreds of times, skin that shouldn’t have excited him the way it did. It was un-inked, unmarked, untampered with skin, and Mike had to force his gaze away from it._

_Their eyes met as Mike looked up guiltily, and Chester smiled slowly. Mike knew he’d been caught in a lingering stare. “It’s too hot in here to sing, Mikey. If you want me to get any work done, this is gonna have to go.” In one swift motion, Chester had taken off his t-shirt, wadding it up in a ball and tossing it at Mike. “There, that’s better… right?” He cut his eyes back over to Mike and tilted his head to the side, watching his reaction._

_Mike tried to swallow inconspicuously, tried to sound nonchalant as he agreed, slinging the shirt over onto the couch where Chester’s zip up hoodie had already been discarded.. “That’s how you look ninety-nine percent of the time you’re singing, yeah. So indulge me, Ches, let’s just get a bit of this down.” He held out the notebook they’d been half-heartedly scribbling lyric ideas in for weeks. For some reason, today, a verse had come together, and Mike wanted to record it before they left out on the summer tour._

_He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Chester’s hips as he rounded the desk for the vocal booth. “Anything you want, Mike. I’m here for whatever you’ve got in mind.”_

Mike felt the stirring in his pajama pants as he thought about that afternoon in his home studio. Chester had been so sexy that day, almost like he was trying to tease Mike, and Mike had stayed seated for most of the work they’d managed to accomplish. There was no other way to hide his arousal with Chester so close to him, his sexy voice really overdoing it as he tested out their newest lyrics. Somehow that t-shirt had been left behind when Chester went home that evening, and Mike had stared at it when he went into the studio before bed to listen to the track one last time and turn off the computer. 

_I can’t even remember how he left with just his hoodie on. I kept meaning to give him that shirt back, but… it’s still there on the couch. Waiting. It knows he’ll be back. He’ll be in there doing pushups again while I’m working and I won’t get a damn thing done._

He finished editing Chester’s notes, his mind flipping between the words and the memory of Chester in his studio before he clicked the red bubble in the upper left corner to close the file. Right as he was about to flip the top of the Macbook closed, his eye caught a small icon in the bottom right and he shook his head. _Of course Ches would have a shortcut to Pornhub on his work computer._ He looked at the little icon for a moment, then glanced toward the open door than connected his room and Chester’s. Everything in him told him not to click the icon, but the curiosity was too strong. He knew it was dangerous, his dick half-hard already just from remembering that day in his studio, but his hand seemed to work on its own volition while his stomach clenched with excited nerves. 

Mike clicked open the link to the porn site and Chester’s account was already logged in. _Of course,_ he smirked, _he’s too impatient to log in every time._ There was a little menu at the bottom with thumbnails of recently viewed videos, and even though Mike had intended to only scroll through the main page and see if anything caught his interest, Chester’s browsing history stopped him. He spread his pointer and middle finger apart on the track pad to zoom in and get a better look, unable to hold back the gasp that came from his lips as the screen came into focus. 

The thumbnails weren’t the standard issue porn he’d seen Chester favor in the early tour bus days of the band. There were no long legged, large breasted, dark haired women in the thumbnails. It looked like the thumbnails were part of a series featuring a man with black hair and close cropped facial hair, with a smaller blonde. A blonde… _man._

The rational side of Mike’s brain knew he should close the browser. Delete the history and forget about it. Not draw any comparisons _at all_ about what Chester had been watching and the spark he felt between them sometimes. He’d be lying himself if he denied wanting to watch it, but he’d never done it, not in all the time that had passed between his naive experimentations with Brad and falling in love with Chester. It would have been so much easier to close the laptop and pretend he’d never seen it, but all of the years of denying his feelings and his natural curiosity caused his pointer finger to roll over the track pad and click the most recently viewed video.

Mike looked toward the open door again. _The shower is still running. I’ll just take a quick look, and I’ll close it. I’ve never watched any gay porn. I don’t even know what that would look like. Even when I’ve imagined things… with Ches… it’s only ever kissing. Nothing past that._ He wasn’t interested in any plot line, and he rationalized that he was short on time. Chester would be finishing his shower and the last thing Mike wanted to do was be caught watching porn on his computer. Male on male porn. Gay porn.

He caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he clicked and slid the small red button to the right, fast-forwarding the video a little, bouncing his foot as he waited for it to buffer. He’d moved the video ahead just as the black haired man pulled the blonde’s boxers down to his ankles, and Mike quickly hit the mute button as the overdone gasps and moans started on screen. He watched, mesmerized, as the black haired man ran his hands up the blonde’s thighs and dipped his head, taking his rather large penis in his mouth. 

Porn wasn’t new to Mike, but watching a man give another man a blow job was certainly different than watching a woman do it on screen. He shifted a little in the bed and kept his eyes glued to the screen, both hands purposely on the laptop and away from his own dick as he watched the blonde lift the other man’s hand and begin sucking on his fingers. 

The analytical part of Mike’s mind started to draw comparisons between a man fucking a woman, and a man fucking a man. He knew all about fingering, how to find Anna’s g-spot, how to get her wet and ready for him. Watching the black haired man’s spit-slicked fingers enter and prepare the blonde for anal sex seemed like the same idea, just with more lubrication. He vaguely wondered if they would be using more lube when they fucked, and was so fully engrossed in watching the pair on screen that he didn’t hear Chester enter the room until he plopped down on the bed next to him. 

Mike froze in place as Chester started to say, “are you still looking at my notes? I was thinking-” and then stopped, his eyes connecting with what Mike was looking at on the screen. There was a beat of silence, then Chester said with a hint of amusement, “I see you’ve found my secret stash.” 

“I’m sorry, Ches, I… yeah, I just clicked on it, and, I’m sorry. I’m closing it now,” Mike said frantically, moving his hand to hover the little black arrow over the ‘x’ on the browser.

Chester’s hand shot out and covered Mike’s. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to stop. We’ve watched a lot of porn together, Mike.” He felt Mike hesitate and Chester held his breath. It was true, but the carefree days of watching porn on the tour bus and making fun of the cheesy lines and dramatic acting had been behind them for years.

Slowly Mike twisted his head around and looked at Chester. “Yeah, we have… but not this. Not… _gay_ porn.” He spit out the word gay like it was dirty, and Chester recoiled from the harshness in Mike’s voice.

“Porn is porn, Mike,” he said calmly, watching Mike’s face carefully. “It’s not like we’re going to sit here and jack off together. I’m just saying, if you’re curious, why not watch it? You might learn something new,” Chester added slyly, his eyes glittering a bit. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll go back to my room while you _finish_.” 

Mike heard the double entendre in Chester’s words and chose to ignore it, his eyes slowly slipping down the front of Chester’s shirt, the waistband of his pajama bottoms low enough to show a peek of candy apple red underwear hiding underneath. “Jesus, Ches, you _bought_ red underwear?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Chester responded airily. “I already had these.” He tugged the bottom of his shirt down and gestured to the laptop casually. “So, are we finishing this? Or do you want me to leave? I mean, I’ve already seen it, so-”

“We’re not finishing it,” Mike said firmly, slamming the top of the laptop down and staring at Chester. He could have sworn he saw disappointment in the vocalist’s eyes as he blew out a breath he’d been holding. “I had no idea you were into this stuff, Ches.”

“And I had no idea you’d be so scandalized by it, Mike,” Chester shot back. “Why were you even watching it, if you think its so wrong?” He didn’t understand the look of scandal on Mike’s face. It didn’t make any sense, all the judgement he felt coming off of the emcee. Judgement coming from someone who had practically dry-humped him in his sleep - more than once.

“I didn’t say it was wrong!” Mike exclaimed, setting the computer aside and standing up, moving away from Chester and his red underwear and his body heat. “I just didn’t know. I didn’t know,” he said again quietly, his eyes locking into Chester’s as he stood on the other side of the bed. 

Chester blew out an unsteady breath. “It’s not that big of a deal, is it? I mean, should I have told you?” He kept Mike’s gaze, trying to read the emotions swirling in his best friend’s deep brown eyes. 

Mike shrugged and squinted and shifted uncomfortably. “We know an awful lot about each other, Chester. We know a lot of intimate details. You know more about me than anyone.” He looked down at the closed computer thoughtfully. “I don’t know when the subject of gay porn would have ever come up, though. So don’t sweat not telling me. It’s fine,” he said, his voice tight. 

He lingered by the side of the bed, undecided about what to do next. The shock of Chester hopping onto the bed next to him while he’d been secretly watching porn had killed any arousal he’d been feeling, but he was sure that it wouldn’t take much for it to come back if he got in bed with Chester now. _I can’t believe he caught me. Or I caught him, I guess, it was on his computer! Though I guess it’s better than some of the things he could have walked in on me doing._ He felt the blush spread on his cheeks as he thought about things he’d done in hotel rooms as Chester showered during other points in their history. 

They were quiet for a minute before Chester said slowly, the thought occurring to him, “you’re not going to want to sleep with me anymore, are you?” Even though he’d indulged in a little male porn off and on for years, he knew the revelation had come as a shock to Mike. Straight-laced, rule-following, publicly heterosexual Mike Shinoda. It didn’t matter that Chester knew that Mike had been kissing him for years. That he’d admitted in his sleep that he loved him. That he felt what was unmistakably Mike’s hard dick pressed against him. Chester knew that revealing all of that now would be more than his friend’s logical brain could handle. 

Mike’s eyes snapped up to meet his as Chester kept talking. “Mike, I would never have thought this could come between us. I mean, I guess I’m fucked up, I don’t know! I thought everyone watched a little gay porn at some point. Me, I’ve never felt limited, Mike. Maybe that’s just issues from my younger days, I don’t know.” Chester ran his hand over his shaved head and swallowed. Hard. “Don’t think I’m weird, Mikey. Please,” he begged, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. He wasn’t ashamed, but he was suddenly terrified of Mike’s reaction.

Thoughts were tumbling through Mike’s head at lightening speed, but most of them weren’t helping the situation make any sense to him. He wasn’t fundamentally opposed to porn, and he knew that Chester knew that. It was the sudden realization that they both had a curiosity about gay porn that he couldn’t wrap his head around. “I don’t think you’re weird, Ches,” he started slowly, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt as he shifted on his feet. “I mean, I clicked on it to see what it looked like, I’m not gonna lie. And I guess… it’s just not all that different, in the technical sense, from regular porn.”

“Regular,” Chester scoffed. “Nothing about porn is regular. I believe you mean, _straight porn_.” He narrowed his eyes and looked away.

“Sure,” Mike agreed, flipping his hand into the air. “ _Straight_ porn isn’t all that different from gay porn. I don’t think it’s wrong, I’m not that closed minded.” He was still shifting restlessly on his feet, still wondering if it would be okay to get back into the bed with Chester. Where were the lines? Had they already crossed some, and Mike just hadn’t realized it? Or was this, his sudden introduction into gay porn, the first real line they’d crossed? Did sleeping cuddled up next to each other cross the line? There were too many questions and not enough answers in Mike’s mind. 

“I never thought you were closed minded,” Chester said, falling back onto the pillows and shifting his eyes back to Mike. “The only question is, does you knowing I like a little gay porn once in a while make you want me to sleep in my own bed or not? Does it change… us?” 

In that instant, looking down at the concern on his best friend’s face, Mike made up his mind. He shook his head, feeling a secret thrill down his spine as he said, “we’ve been sleeping in the same bed for a decade, Chester. I know all your secrets. This doesn’t change anything.”

Chester looked down at his hands as Mike peeled the blankets back and gingerly got into bed, a full two feet of space between them. It pained him to hear Mike’s words. He didn’t know all of Chester’s secrets. Mike didn’t even know some of his _own_ secrets. He knew he should have come clean about their nighttime activities a long time ago, but he’d never been able to string the words together. If he was honest with himself, he’d never wanted to give up sharing a bed with Mike. All that time and money spent in rehab, in isolation, and here they were. In bed with each other and fresh memories of porn on both their minds. Chester couldn’t see how this would end well, but he didn’t know how to get out of it either. Or if he even wanted to. He tried not to watch Mike pull his t-shirt off and toss it onto the table on his side of the bed. Tried to ignore the way the bed shifted and moved under his weight as he slid down in the bed and pulled up the blankets to his chin.

“I’m just surprised, Ches, you know… given your past,” Mike said carefully as he turned on his side to face his best friend, shoving one arm up under the pillow. “I didn’t know that anything like that,” he motioned to the computer still on the bed, “could be… good for you… after what you’d been through.” He paused, not sure if they should go down that road or not. 

Chester nodded, considering Mike’s words, and decided to just be truthful. “I used to think that maybe _that_ was why I was into… _some things_.” He sighed and tentatively reached his hand toward Mike, gratified when the emcee didn’t pull away from him. “I struggled with that for a while… but then I realized the past doesn’t have to define me. And there are some things that just feel good, if you’ll open up your mind to receive them,” Chester said honestly, running his fingertips down Mike’s forearm before taking a deep breath and plunging ahead. “If you’ve never had an orgasm while your prostate is being hit, you’re missing out.”

Mike stared at Chester, his mouth hanging open. “And you have?”

“I have. And it’s _fantastic_ ,” Chester whispered, pulling his hand back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he opened them again with a soft smile on his lips. “Anyway, you might be surprised, Mikey. When you open up your mind, you might be surprised at what you feel.” Chester knew he was treading dangerously close to telling Mike how he felt about him, but the stunned look on Mike’s face was keeping him in check. 

Mike was staring at Chester’s flushed pink cheeks, his mind spinning. _I’ve never thought past kissing him. I’ve never gone there in my head. I’m married. I have a wife. I have children. I’m married._ He heard himself pull in a shaky breath and whisper, “I think we should go to sleep, Ches. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, the show and then the bus after…” he let his voice trail off into nothing as they looked at each other. 

There was another long silence before Chester mumbled, “you’re right. It’s going to be a long day. And I _never_ sleep on the bus. I’ve gotten too used to this.” He reached for the laptop and moved it to the small table next to the bed, then dropped his glasses on top. He could feel Mike shifting in the bed behind him. 

“Me, too,” Mike answered, feeling the tension between them as he rolled over and reached for the lamp switch. With a vision of the top of Chester’s red underwear in his head, the conversation about open minds and porn and prostates was too much to process in the light. He flipped the switch and the room plunged into darkness, and Mike blinked a few times as he settled back down into the shared blankets. He barely moved as the fingers of his right hand rubbed tiny circles on his stomach and his thoughts spiraled down anxious roads. 

_What if I told him how I felt about him? What if I told him I think about him sometimes. What would he say? Maybe he wouldn’t be surprised if I told him. I could leave out the parts about how much I want to kiss him. How I’ve thought about it, dreamed about it. He’d think I was thinking about him… about him going down on me, like in that video. I haven’t ever really thought about that, not really. Not in the real sense, just in an abstract sort of way. Not the way I can visualize it now. I mean, he turns me on, but he turns everyone on. He’s Chester Fucking Bennington. He looks like sex. Stupid fucking movie. I wonder if he’d let me do that to him. I wonder if I would be good at it. I don’t know if I could put my fingers… there._

Mike twisted onto his side, still keeping Chester at arms length. _I’m so used to this now, falling asleep with him. With him pressed against me. It’s not sexual, it’s not wrong. It’s just us. Right? It’s not sexual. It’s never been sexual. I mean, I would, I’d do it. But that’s not what it’s about. Our connection, the way we are, it’s never been about sex, or we would have done that a long time ago._ His breathing all but stopped as that thought rolled around in his head. 

_What kind of thought is that? We’re married. And not to each other! I can’t assume he’d want that. Just because he watches it doesn’t mean he wants it. But he said he’d done it. Well he didn’t say that, really. He said that thing about his prostate… maybe that’s something he and Tal have experimented with. What! No! I don’t want to think about that! Fuck. I shouldn’t have clicked on the button. But he shouldn’t have been watching gay porn. If it was regular porn I wouldn’t even be thinking about this._

He was painfully aware of what seemed like a mile of space between them in the bed as he talked himself into and out of telling Chester what he was thinking. They lay for a long time in the darkness, listening to each other breathe, lost in their own thoughts, before Mike finally caved and whispered, “Ches? You still awake?” his hand snaking out between them, searching.

Chester knew he couldn’t get away with feigning sleep. “Yeah. I’m awake,” he mumbled, his limbs heavy. He’d been closer to falling asleep than he thought. 

“Come here,” Mike said. “I can’t sleep like this. I don’t want to sleep like this.” The tension between them was still there, thick and heavy as Mike inched his free hand across the bed, found Chester’s and linked their fingers together, tugging on him gently. “I don’t think it’s weird,” he reaffirmed, his voice a little bit rough with sleepiness. _Not desire. I’m tired. It’s not about him, or watching that blow job, or anything else. I’m not thinking about doing it to him. I’m not._ “I just need you close, Ches. I’m so tired.”

Chester slid over carefully before he rolled onto his side, facing away from Mike, and as his pajama shirt covered back met the bare skin of Mike’s chest, he carefully avoided tucking his ass up against Mike’s crotch… even though he knew his caution ultimately wouldn’t matter. He’d wake up in a few hours and Mike’s arm would be heavy across his stomach. Mike’s sleeping dick would be against his butt cheek, and his warms breaths would be on Chester’s neck. He knew it didn’t matter how carefully he arranged things, Mike would pull him closer in the middle of the night, tucking Chester’s smaller frame against him without knowing that he was the one that caused them to awaken in all sorts of tangled, scandalous positions. 

Mike felt Chester’s body heat against him and sighed, his whole body coming down a notch as he relaxed and his thoughts calmed. “This isn’t weird, either,” he mumbled, as though he were trying to justify it to both of them. _It’s not. It’s not._

Chester didn’t answer, just squeezed his eyes shut. He had to tell Mike. He had to say something. He didn’t know how many more nights he could spend in Mike’s arms before he lost his composure. It was too hard, keeping everything balanced, not giving away his own feelings and not letting Mike in on the ones he didn’t know he had inadvertently shared in his sleep. He wanted to ask Mike what he really thought about the little movie on his computer, if he was curious in a general way or a specific way. He wanted to turn around and cover Mike’s lips with his own and show him what he’d been missing. He didn’t need words to tell Mike he wanted him. 

“Mike?” 

Chester waited, but all he got in return was silence. He lay for a few more minutes, fretting over the entire conversation, wondering what he could have said differently. He could have reached over and dropped his hand on Mike’s thigh when he first sat down and saw the computer screen. It could have been the perfect invitation into a conversation about _them_. He could have told Mike all the ways he loved him and wanted to be the one to drop to his knees in front of him. He could have simply reached over and kissed him. He could have done a lot of things differently - just like he thought of most of his life up to now.

His last thought, before he finally settled into sleep, a warm deep sleep at Mike’s side, was that he needed to talk to Talinda. She’d know what he should do, or say - or if he should do or say nothing at all. He’d call her in the morning. He’d tell her everything. She’d help him fix everything.


	44. Part Five: OML -- Out of Control

**June 29, 2017**

“It’s all just the same as it’s been, Tal. Two weeks. Nothing has changed.” Chester ran his hand over the top of his shaved head and then rubbed his eyes. His glasses were on the counter in the bathroom where he’d left them before he decided to go ahead and call his wife. He could hear Mike’s shower running in the other room. 

“So you still haven’t told him?” Chester could hear the sound of the television in the background as Talinda sat on their couch at home. He could clearly picture her, her legs tucked up underneath a blanket, both dogs next to her, maybe a glass of red wine on the table beside her. He licked his lips as he thought about the merlot she preferred. His mind went straight from her drinking a glass of wine to the last time he’d seen Mike with one, at some post-award show party years ago, his lips stained with the dark red liquid. He’d looked so sexy.

Chester sat down on the edge of the bathtub, forcing the image from his mind. _This is getting out of control._ “How do I tell him without freaking him out? You should have seen him when he first found the porn. _You_ were cooler with it than he was. You jumped right on board with trying shit out.” Chester’s frown pulled in to a soft grin as he remembered Talinda’s discovery of his tastes and the ways they had experimented with some things he’d never even thought he’d be able to get her to try. “You’re pretty fuckin’ awesome, you know that?”

There was a soft snort on the other end of the line. “Chester, I was a Playboy model. If you only knew some of the things I’ve seen…”

“You mean there’s still stuff you haven’t told me?” Chester responded with amusement in his voice. “I know what we’re talking about when I get home.” He felt his dick twitch slightly as the thought of what his wife may or may not have seen in her Playboy days crossed his mind. “I bet you’ve seen some hot stuff.”

“Depends on what you like, I guess.” Talinda paused, and Chester knew she was twirling a lock of hair between her fingers as she thought things over. “Does he know about us and Ryan?” she asked quietly.

It had been a long time since either of them had mentioned those trysts that had been more Chester’s fantasies than her own, a safe place to indulge and experiment. She’d been willing to let Chester explore his bi-sexuality on the condition that she was always present, too, and even though she thought it would be weird, it had never gone beyond her being with Chester, and Ryan being with Chester. They’d had some wild times, and she had always thought that Ryan wanted more, but when he got serious with his girlfriend, and they’d had Tyler, it had all quietly drifted into the past, into a place she didn’t visit very often. 

“I’m not telling him that,” Chester objected instantly. “I mean, he knows I’ve been with a guy, I might have mentioned it in passing… but there’s no way I’m telling him it was Ryan.” The memories of times Ryan and Mike had been in the same place at the same time assaulted him. Mike had always been a little jealous of Ryan, especially when he’d been off with _Dead By Sunrise_ , and he wasn’t about to add any fuel to that fire. “Besides, that was like, just a handful of times, and it’s been years since we did anything like that. I don’t want to get into that with Mike.”

“You don’t think he’d understand, do you?” Talinda asked.

“Based off his reaction to the porn?” Chester let out a snort of both amusement and derision. “No. He’d never understand that. I mean, we were young and crazy. Come on, Tal, you wouldn’t do that now. It was just fun, you know?”

“If you’re asking if I’d do it with Mike-”

“I’m not,” Chester said hastily, not wanting to hear if she was going to say yes or no. He couldn’t even imagine Mike’s reaction if he suggested a threesome with his wife. “Like I said, those days are long gone. Besides, I don’t think you’d ever be able to look Anna in the eyes again.”

“It’s hard enough, knowing what I know. She’s been feeling Mike slipping away for so long that I don’t think she will even be surprised if… if you two end up…”

There was a moment of silence, both of them thinking about the end of that sentence, a thought Talinda couldn’t bring herself to voice aloud. _If you two end up together._ There was so much more involved than the physical aspect, an aspect that Chester didn’t even know if Mike wanted. There was a difference in being close while Mike was sleeping, and moving their physical closeness to the next level. 

_The next level. It’s been so long since I did that… and the way Mike was acting with the porn, he’ll never want that with me._ Chester sighed. “Anna is the reason we haven’t. You and Anna,” Chester amended. “I know he loves her. I know he has this sense of obligation-”

“True, but is that sense of obligation worth being miserable?” 

“I’m not miserable, Tal.” 

“But you’re not happy, either.”

The conversation had turned incredibly heavy and Chester shook his head as he tried to explain himself. “I’ve never been happy. Not all the way through, you know? Not the way other people are, that’s never been me. There’s always something that keeps the happiness from sinking all the way in.” _Could it be Mike? Is that really the answer to everything? Would Mike be the one to take away all that pain?_

As if she were reading his mind, Talinda said, “maybe it’s as simple as coming clean to him, Chester. Maybe it really is that easy.”

Chester let out a short huff. “I’m not telling him about Ryan.”

“You don’t have to. The past is the past. He knows you have people in your past. He does, too, right? Even if you don’t tell him about Ryan, I think you need to tell him about your feelings. About his own feelings.” They had already talked about the increase in Mike’s nighttime confessions of love, and Chester had truthfully told Talinda about the kissing and petting he just couldn’t give up. “It’s getting to be more often, you know? I don’t know why he’s repressing it so much, but it’s clear to me that he loves you, too. And… he’s good for you, babe. I owe a huge debt to him for taking care of you all these years. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Tal…” Chester dropped his head and stared at the gray and white penny tile on the bathroom floor. “I just want you to know, I tried, babe, I really did. I tried not to want him.”

“I know you did-”

“No, listen,” Chester interrupted urgently. “I thought I could get away from it all, get some space and perspective and it would make things different, but I could barely function without him. I… I love you, Tal. I don’t deserve you, you know that? You know that I love you, too, right, it’s not all about Mike?” He waited, listening as a long sigh floated across the miles separating them.

“I’ve always known that. I’ve always known how you feel about Mike. Even when we were fucking around with Ryan, I knew how you felt about Mike. And you know, I never, ever thought he’d be open to having a relationship with you or I never would have encouraged what we did. It certainly wasn’t fair to Ryan.” Talinda paused, her voice serious. “Chester, if Mike is in love with you, don’t let me stop you from finding out what could be. I think… I think Mike could be the key to you finally being at peace with yourself.”

Chester closed his eyes. The pattern on the floor was too much for his eyes without his glasses on. “But then what happens to us, Tal? What happens if Mike actually opens his mind up for a second and lets me in? What if he decides to go with his heart, and then he takes it back? Decides he can’t do it? What about his family? I don’t know if I can be responsible for that…”

“You wouldn’t be. That’s all Mike’s choice. Babe, you’re killing yourself over this. Don’t you think it’s time? You’re not getting any younger,” she pointed out, no trace of bitchiness in her tone.

“Don’t remind me,” Chester said ruefully, standing up to look into the mirror at what he just knew was his receding hairline. “I wish I could just have it all, you know?”

“You do have it all,” Talinda said quietly. “You have everything you’ve ever wanted right at your fingertips, Chester. And the way I see it, you’ve got two options. Wake him up the next time he kisses you, and tell him everything. Or decide you’re going to go the rest of your life denying this thing that’s always been between the two of you, and stop sleeping in his bed. I’m pretty sure that’s where you went wrong all those years ago.”

Chester blew out the breath he was holding and drifted over to he shower to start the water. “You’re right. You’re always right. I should have listened two weeks ago.”

There was a light giggle on Talinda’s side of the phone. “I guess that depends on which way you’re gonna go. Two weeks ago he wouldn’t have been able to handle what you’re gonna tell him. You’ve been easing him closer, though, so maybe you can do it. And whatever you decide, Chester, remember…”

“I know,” Chester said, stepping out of his underwear and standing naked beside the shower. “I’ll tell you, Tal. I owe you that.”

“I hear the water, so I’ll let you go. Tell Mike hello for me,” Talinda said, and Chester couldn’t hear even a hint of jealousy in her voice.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Good night, babe. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Chester looked at himself in the mirror until it was fogged up so that he couldn’t even see the outline of his body anymore. _I have to just do it. Say it. Tell him. I have to just tell him: Mike, you talk in your sleep. We kiss and I like it and I want you, too, and it’s all going be okay. Just like that. Just say it, Chester._ With a defeated sigh, he shook his head and climbed into the shower. _I wish it could be that easy._

**********

Mike held his left hand steady against the white subway tile of the hotel bathroom shower, his chin tucked into his chest as he finished coaxing another Chester-induced orgasm from his body. He’d stopped keeping track on this tour of how many times he’d been in this same position. It was easier to deny there was a problem if he just didn’t think about it. He focused instead on the water running down his back and the sound of the spray, now that Chester’s voice had faded from memory. It was just too easy for his mind to take those breaths and gasps from stage and loop them together into some imagined version of what Chester would sound like if they ever crossed the line they’d been carefully avoiding lately. 

The conversations they’d had since he’d discovered gay porn on Chester’s laptop had stoked the fire that had been lying mostly dormant inside Mike for years. He couldn’t erase the images he’d seen, and his mind couldn’t stop replacing those actors on screen with himself and Chester.

It didn’t help that the next evening on the bus, the evening after _The Discovery_ , he’d used his phone as a hotspot and created his own Pornhub account. He had to see how the video ended that he’d been watching when Chester interrupted. It was simple curiosity, he’d convinced himself. Not educational. Not for future reference. Simply for the curiosity of it all. 

Reminiscing with the guys about the days they’d all watched porn on the tour bus? That didn’t contribute to the way he watched Chester during the set the same night they’d had that conversation. It didn’t contribute to the way his eyes continued, night after night, to linger over Chester’s backside, or the way his voice dropped into some husky baritone when he flirted with Chester on stage. They’d always flirted on stage. It was part of who they were. The way Chester’s hands reached for him, the way they slung their arms around each other’s necks - none of it had anything to do with the vivid imagery Mike had in his mind now of ways he could make Chester’s face look the way the actor’s faces looked in those videos. It had nothing to do with the way Chester curled up next to him at night, the scent of lavender emanating from his body, his warm heat against Mike’s skin.

He didn’t spend time both on and off stage imagining pressing his tongue against each of Chester’s pink nipples, or biting them until they hardened for him, or dragging his tongue along Chester’s collarbone and tasting the salt of his skin. He didn’t think about how Chester’s ass would feel in his hands, or what it would be like to actually _touch him._ His mind could barely comprehend the thought of touching a dick that wasn’t his, yet he couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like. 

He didn’t sit on the tour bus, idly sketching and wondering who Chester had allowed to be inside him and when, knowing that he really didn’t want to know. He didn’t wonder how Chester could so calmly talk of prostate stimulation and orgasm when Mike could barely string together a coherent sentence the night the information had so effortlessly been offered up. He wasn’t wondering what that penetration felt like, or what it might be like to be on the giving side of that equation.

He didn’t look forward to the whispered conversations they’d had in bed about everything _but_ the night Mike had watched gay porn on Chester’s computer. Lyrics. Home. Wives. Kids. Tour. The future. He hadn’t fallen asleep and dreamed about a future with Chester every single night since then. 

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. _This is getting out of control._

He twisted the knob on the shower a little more to the left, standing under the water as it became stinging hot. _Nothing I do gets him out of my head._ Trying not to think about Chester naked sent immediate pictures to his mind, and indulging those pictures only made him want more. He desperately wished he could go back two weeks and close Chester’s laptop, leaving all of his sexual thoughts ambiguous and fuzzy, without direction or purpose. In all of the years since he’d realized he was in love with his best friend, there had never been a stretch of time that he felt so deprived.

Mike finished his shower quickly, realizing he’d already been longer than was necessary for general cleanliness. He felt his face flush even darker than the rosy pink brought on by the punishing hot water, wondering if Chester had any idea what he’d been doing that caused his shower to take so long. Toweling off quickly, he tossed the soiled linens back into the bathtub and pulled on his boxers and t-shirt. He stood brushing his teeth while combing through his wet hair with his hand, trying to hurry things along. 

When he stepped out of the bathroom he expected to see Chester waiting for him in the bed, but the vocalist wasn’t there. Mike smiled to himself as the sound of Chester’s shower floated through the open door. _And I thought I was taking a long time._ A sudden thought came jarring into his head as he picked up the remote from the tv stand and he stopped, his head whipping back around to look through the connecting door. _What if… what if he’s doing what I just did? Would he be doing that? He did grab my ass on stage tonight. That usually doesn’t mean anything. But… that’s a long shower…_

Mike flopped down on his side of the bed and flipped on the television before he looked over at the door again. _I’ve got to get him out of my head. I’ve got to let this go._

He pulled his left hand down the side of his face wearily and leaned his head back into the pillows, letting his eyes slide shut. He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until he heard Chester’s voice calling his name softly.

“Ches?” Mike mumbled, lifting his head from the pillow as Chester climbed into bed. “Fuck. Sorry, I was almost asleep.”

“Almost? Mike, you were practically snoring.” Chester left his glasses on the table and switched off his lamp. “You’ve still got your glasses on, though. And your shirt.” He pulled the blankets up under his chin and turned on his side to face Mike.

“Yeah, I know.” Mike felt a little disoriented as he struggled up in the bed, yanking off his shirt and tossing it over the side of the bed before he leaned over to take off his glasses. “You took forever in the shower.”

“Talinda called before I got in,” Chester lied, watching Mike’s face as he snuggled down into the bed and turned to face him. Mike’s lamp was still on and he was backlit with the soft glow, the light filtering through strands of his dark hair and giving them a silvery tint. In that moment he could see Mike in twenty years, his hair graying but his dark eyes still intense, searching. Chester wanted nothing more than to still be there when Mike’s hair turned gray.

“Everything alright at home?” Mike asked, reaching for Chester’s hand and lacing their fingers together the way he always did.

“Yeah. Kids are good. Tal’s good. Everything’s good.”

Mike lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of _good_ in one sentence.” He looked down, studying Chester’s fingernails. “Looks like it’s time to redo these. You know, maybe you should look into getting a gel manicure. I hear those last a lot longer than what I can do.” He rubbed his thumb over the chipped nail polish and looked at Chester.

“If I got a gel manicure, we’d miss out on all the good conversation we have while you’re painting my nails,” Chester teased lightly, and Mike smiled. 

“Because we _never_ talk, right, Ches?” 

They watched each other for a moment before Chester giggled. “Nah. We never talk. You don’t know me at all.”

“Nope,” Mike agreed lightly, squeezing Chester’s hand before he said, “you ready for me to turn this light off? I’m beat.”

“Go ahead. I know you’re tired, I woke you up, remember?” Chester pulled his hand back and rolled over, turning his back to Mike as he yawned. “Maybe we can repaint them in the morning.” 

Mike clicked off the television and the lamp. “If we wake up in time,” Mike said, reaching over to feel for Chester, his hand coming into contact with the vocalist’s back. _Oh. Okay. Well, that’s fine, too._ He closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh as he settled in for the night with Chester on the other side of the bed. _It’s probably better this way, anyway._

**********

Anna took a deep breath, then opened her eyes. _This is getting out of control._ She counted backwards from ten and opened her eyes. There was milk all over the countertop, dripping drops slowly to the floor. There was cereal scattered over the tile with a shame-faced little boy in the middle and a tiny, overjoyed dog at his feet, licking up bits and bites as he tumbled over Otis’ feet. Josie was screaming from the living room that Abi had taken her book, and Anna simply couldn’t take any more. 

Mike had been gone for weeks and all she had wanted was an easy evening. The kids had jumped on cereal for dinner. She was usually so put together. Meals were planned. She considered herself the master of balanced meals, full of organic, grass-fed lean meats, fresh vegetables, whole grains, and healthy fats. 

But somehow since Mike left on tour, Anna’s schedule had unraveled and she found herself sleep deprived and irritable. She had sunk so far into watching uploaded videos of the current tour at night, watching and waiting for moments between Mike and Chester, that waking up at six am with the children was difficult. And now she was standing in the kitchen with her oldest, her son, her spitting image of Mike, with a mess all around them and in her head.

“It’s okay, Otis,” she sighed, forcing a smile. “I know it was an accident.” She looked at his dark, sensitive eyes on the verge of tears and bit her lip. It was the same way she felt, ready to cry at the next thing that happened. “Come on, it’s okay,” she said again, more gently this time. “Jasper will eat up most of it and then we’ll clean it up together.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Otis said quietly, hanging his head as his smallest sister came barreling into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.

“I want Papa!” Josie screamed, Abi right behind her. “Papa makes Abi give me my stuff back!” Her fists were balled in frustration as she looked accusingly at Anna.

“It was time for dinner, Jo,” Abi said matter-of-factly, one hand on her hip. She was a miniature Anna through and through. “Mama said come on, and you didn’t listen, so I put your book away for you.”

“I told you she took my book and you didn’t listen!” Josie yelled, looking up at her mother as Anna covered the side of her face with her hand.

“We had a cereal catastrophe in here, Jo, that’s why. Everyone just needs to calm down,” Anna said firmly. “Girls, go sit at the table while Otis and I clean this up. Here, take my phone and call Papa. You might catch him awake.” _Maybe. It’s late over there, probably one or two am, but that’s typical for after a show. Please, Mike, please answer._ She hit the first contact under her favorites and handed the phone to Josie, whose tears had subsided to hiccups at the thought of talking to her father.

Anna turned back to Otis and looked down at the floor. “See? Jasper got most of it. Here’s some paper towels. Dry up the milk there and I’ll spray some cleaner on it while you’re eating. It’s a snap.” She glanced over at her youngest daughter in time to see the anticipation on her face fall as the call went to voicemail. Before she could tell Josie to hand her the phone, she started speaking in her small voice.

“Papa. Papa, I miss you. Please call me back. We’re having cereal for dinner and Abi stole my book. I love you bye.” Josie hit the red button on the phone and carefully set it on the table, dropping her head as her tears started fresh. “I want Papa to come home!” she wailed, and Anna knew that nothing she could do or say in the moment was going to make anything better for the four of them. It was all she could do to hold back her own tears.

She knew Mike was passed out in a hotel room on the other side of the world and it was unreasonable to expect him to answer the phone in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t help but feel the frustration as she finished cleaning up the spilled milk. She helped Otis with the cereal bowls and got the kids situated, all eating quietly now, all looking sad for different reasons. Even Jasper looked sad after his cereal binge, curled up in his little bed with his chin hanging over the side, staring at her.

Anna sat down at the table, her eyes flicking to Mike’s empty chair out of habit. They still had one more week without him to navigate. _He never answers the phone when I call._ She forced herself to remember he wasn’t in the States, that being in Europe caused them to miss each other more often than not, and that time zones were a real thing. _Trying to explain that to a five-year-old, though… and we’ve still got one more week without him. Then he’ll physically be here._ She didn’t allow herself to think about whether he’d be home emotionally or not. She knew it wouldn’t do her any good to get her hopes up.

**********

When Mike woke the next morning, his arm was looped over Chester’s stomach and his face pressed against his back. _I don’t know how, but we end up like this every night._ He could feel the rise and fall of Chester’s breaths, smell his skin, and feel the all too familiar tingles of arousal in his stomach at their close proximity. He knew he had to move. _This is getting out of control._

Mike froze. It was the second time in twelve hours he’d had the same thought. _Something needs to change. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. If I keep pulling him close in the middle of the night, how long will it be before I let something slip? Before I screw it up and lose everything?_

He carefully pulled his arm back and scooted a few inches away, his heart feeling the loss of the physical closeness he craved, and he let out a slow breath. Chester was still sleeping as he reached for his phone, frowning at the sight of a missed call from Anna. _Fuck. I should have called last night. When was the last time I called? Two nights ago? Or three?_ He held the phone up to listen to the voicemail, surprised to hear Josie’s tiny voice on the line, and his heart sank. _Baby girl. I miss them. I have to call after lunch. They’ll be awake by then. We aren’t doing anything today, just sightseeing. I’ll call._

His heart felt heavy as he lay on his back, dropping his phone on his chest and closing his eyes again. _Just one more week and I’ll be back home._ Mike forced his eyes to stay closed, to not look across the bed at Chester’s back. The thought of home felt more and more foreign with every trip away he took. Every flight, every bus ride, every country put more miles between him and the Mike Shinoda he’d created over the past twenty years. _One more week left until I’m_ that _Mike again. Papa and husband. Without Chester. Home for three weeks… without Chester._

Then Chester stirred next to him, stretching slowly like a cat before he turned over, and Mike’s couldn’t stop the way his entire being became alert as his brain registered the movement. He couldn’t stop the impulse to turn his head, to open his eyes, to meet Chester’s sleepy, soft, chocolate brown eyes as his lips lifted into a smile.

He couldn’t stop the way his heart fluttered when Chester breathed, “morning, Mikey.” 

He couldn’t stop.


	45. Part Five: OML -- Pretending

**July 5, 2017**

Chester knew he hadn’t slept more than a few minutes all night long. His brain had been back and forth since he’d laid down next to Mike the night before, carefully and thoroughly picking apart memories starring the emcee, trying to convince himself to _do the right thing._ If only he knew for certain that he was choosing the correct path for them both. He was in agony. 

Another week had passed by, another week that found Chester not brave enough to either speak up or stop the path he and Mike were headed down. During each pre-show huddle he found the sparkle in Mike’s deep eyes distracting, and in the post-show dressing room, the only compliments that mattered were Mike’s. Every moment they spent together felt as though the universe were in charge of them, manipulating them, pulling their voices together on stage, pulling their bodies together at night. He felt the spark of Mike’s touch in the sunlight, and the more he tried to ignore the tender kisses they shared in the dark, the more they haunted him. Chester had reached the point where if they continued on as they were, he’d be pressing Mike against the wall in some venue and destroying during the space of one breath… one heartbeat… one kiss… everything they had worked almost twenty years to build. Linkin Park. Families. Brotherhood. 

_I’ve almost known him twenty years. Twenty fucking years. Where has the time gone?_

Now he lay listening to Mike’s breathing, deep and regular, his full lips parted slightly as he lay on his side, his left arm tucked up underneath his pillow. He longed to take Mike in his arms and pull them closer together. In the early morning light creeping through the windows he could see Mike’s dark facial hair, and his fingers ached to reach across the space between them and stroke over the softness, to touch his lips. With the knowledge that this was the last morning he would awaken with the emcee next to him, he drank in every detail of Mike’s sleeping face. The way his black hair fell across his forehead, and how he loved the look of it against white hotel pillowcases. His thick black eyelashes against his cheek, a cheek that was sharper than it had been in their youth. The stray hairs around his eyebrows that he’d always adamantly refused to pluck on the account that he wasn’t a woman. His perfectly proportioned nose in which Chester had always been a little bit jealous.

His eyes memorized each new line in Mike’s face, knowing that when he wasn’t as relaxed those lines were deeper and more prominent. Chester thought of the baby soft, round face of Mike’s early twenties, the upside down ‘u’ shaped earrings with the balls on each end, the red and orange and blue tints he’d tried in his hair with varying degrees of success. While Mike slept, their blanket had shifted enough to expose one tender shoulder, skin that never saw sunlight and was pale though Mike could tan easily. Chester could easily visualize Mike’s dark nipples, the sparse smattering of dark hair on his chest, the way his stomach narrowed into his hips, and the fine trail of dark hair that led to unseen treasures underneath the boxers he always wore to bed. He knew what Mike’s back looked like, and could identify exactly where the mole was behind his right ear, as well as the one on the sole of his right foot. 

Chester closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would replay Mike’s side of the conversation he’d had with Anna before bed last night over and over if that was what it would take to get the courage to tell Mike that they couldn’t sleep together anymore. It had sounded shockingly like his best friend’s wife was issuing ultimatums, and he could still hear Mike’s voice, his soft pleading, which turned into promises, which turned into joy as he talked to each of his children. Yes... Chester was ending things between them for the greater good. For their families. Things had gotten too hard, too much, too close to the tipping point for him to be so cavalier as to let things continue to snowball downhill. _And Mike doesn’t even know._

They’d fallen asleep holding each other, Mike a wreck over Anna’s frustrating phone call, and Chester had stared unblinkingly into the darkness, thinking. Memorizing. Turning back time and desperately wishing that he’d told Mike before he’d married Anna that he wanted him, but deep down knowing it wouldn’t have made any difference. Mike and Anna had been married years before Mike had declared his love for the vocalist in his sleep, and by then there were new wives and more babies between them. All they could ever be was best friends, and Chester knew they couldn’t continue the way they were, yet he couldn’t tell Mike the truth, not now. 

When Mike began talking in the wee hours of the morning, pulling Chester closer in his arms as he fretted over going home, Chester told himself right then to get out of the bed, to pull away. When he turned to face Mike, to soothe his hands over Mike’s sleeping face, he knew for certain this night would be the last. He told himself as Mike’s lips closed softly over his that it was the last time… that everything they were doing was wrong when it came to their families. It didn’t matter if Talinda understood. Anna never would, and there were too many children for Chester to continue to casually allow things to escalate. He could hear it in Mike’s voice as he talked to his kids - that love and loyalty that told him Mike would never choose Chester over his babies. It was time for Chester to make the choice, as Talinda had said last week - tell Mike, or live with the secret until he died.

_Maybe that was the solution._

Chester shook his head as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He’d promised never to leave Mike, that he’d never do that to him. They’d stood in each other’s arms in some other hotel room and made each other promises, and that promise felt like the only one Chester had ever made in his life that he absolutely had to keep. It seemed like such an easy alternative to the prospect of living the rest of his life with Mike just out of reach. With Mike always there, but never his. Not in the way Chester wished that Mike could be, if only things were different. 

He opened his eyes again and judged that the room was slightly brighter than it had been. The sun was inching higher, bringing him closer every second to Mike’s awakening. He could still feel Mike’s hands, still taste his lips from where they’d pulled on his in the early morning hours. It would all be over when the sun came up. It was so far past time to end whatever they had going on between them that Chester didn’t know how to do it other than to just be blunt. 

Why did the thought of not coming to Mike’s room that night feel like a knife to his heart? Was it possible to truly, deeply love someone and never let it go anywhere, if that was the _right thing_ for them both? 

He felt the moment when Mike woke up, the slight tension in his body and the way his hands felt for Chester, his fingers spreading open then closed on Chester’s pajama shirt. He took a deep breath just as Mike’s eyes - the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen - cracked open. He felt his resolve crumbling as it had every other morning over the years they’d woken in each other’s arms.

“Mmmm, Ches,” Mike mumbled, his eyes half-closed, “you’re awake?”

“Yeah,” Chester whispered softly. “Couldn’t sleep.” He watched as Mike’s eyes became more alert. It was rare for Chester to wake up before Mike, and the emcee was instantly concerned. 

“You okay?” Mike asked, squinting to see Chester’s face more clearly even though they were mere inches from each other.

Chester nodded, knowing he was lying before he said, “I was thinking about room service, actually. Ditching the guys for breakfast. There’s… there’s something I want to talk to you about.” He let out a slow breath and looked away, cursing his voice for trembling before he’d even gotten started.

Mike’s eyebrows twisted into a frown as he pulled his hand back from the front of Chester’s shirt. “You sound so serious. It’s too early for serious. I haven’t even had any coffee,” he whined, rolling over onto his back and fumbling on the table next to him for his glasses and phone. 

“I know. I’ll get us coffee. And I’ll get you bacon,” Chester added, sitting up and scooting back in the bed to lean against the headboard. He couldn’t look at Mike as he turned back to him, his glasses on and his dark eyes troubled.

“Okay,” he said slowly, watching Chester carefully. It was cold in the room, the way it always was, but Mike felt the chill over his body as though it were coming from the inside. Something was different. He could feel a distance between them that had never been there before, and his stomach twisted with anxiety. _Something is wrong, I know it is. He lied to me. He’s not okay. Something is wrong._

“Eggs? Toast?” Chester asked, holding the phone to his ear, still avoiding Mike’s eyes. 

“Sure,” Mike answered as he threw back the blanket and got out of bed. He didn’t say anything else as he made his way to the bathroom to take care of his morning business. Whatever it was that Chester wanted to talk about, it would have to wait at least long enough for him to splash some water on his face and wake up a little more. He could feel his heart racing even though he was taking his time, putting his contacts in before he stepped back into the room.

Chester was standing by the windows, looking out, and Mike stopped, his eyes ghosting over the long lines of his body, seeing the dips and curves, muscles and tattoos that he’d had committed to memory for years despite the long pajamas covering him from head to toe. He bit his bottom lip and sent away the thought of going to stand next to the vocalist at the window. Experience told him that Chester would come to him when he was ready.

A few minutes passed while Mike moved quietly around the room, folding clothes to put back in his suitcase, before Chester said from the window, “coffee should be here any time now.” 

“Sounds good,” Mike responded, turning away from his suitcase as Chester moved to sit at the little table next to the window. He finally caught Chester’s eyes, but they were guarded, and Mike’s stomach twisted a little more. _Whatever it is, he’s afraid of my reaction. Which means it’s not just a little bad. It’s really bad. But nothing’s happened. We’ve been together this whole tour, he’s been fine. I’d know if something was wrong. I know him._ He wracked his brain for the source of Chester’s odd behavior and came up with nothing.

Leaving the shirt he’d dug out of the suitcase on top of it, Mike went to sit across from Chester at the table. “You look worried, Ches,” he started, upset when the vocalist immediately looked away from him and out the window again. His gaze dropped to the silver nail polish Chester had come back from the manicurist with a few days earlier.

“Well… I didn’t sleep super great,” Chester started.

“I noticed. You hardly ever wake up first.” Mike thought about reaching for Chester’s hand just as the vocalist crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands up under his elbows.

“Yeah. I just, well, I know you’ll be upset, but I’ve been thinking about your conversation with Anna last night,” Chester said. “I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I couldn’t help but overhear-”

“You were in the other room, though,” Mike interrupted, and Chester nodded. _That was before I got in the shower. I thought he was getting ready for his shower, too. I didn’t know he was listening to us. It was just a dumb argument. Same as always._

Chester interrupted his thoughts. “I could hear her yelling at you, Mike. She was loud enough.” He swung his eyes over in time to see Mike’s cheeks flush pink.

“She’s had a rough week,” Mike admitted, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “She’s just ready for me to be home. And like, really be home. Not working while I’m there.” A guilty look spread over his face as he met Chester’s eyes. “I’m not always the best at that, you know. It’s the same old argument, every time.”

Chester nodded. “I know. You two have been having it for years.”

“Yeah.” 

A weight settled over them both as they thought about what was being said, the simple, secret idea that the Shinoda’s marriage wasn’t as perfect as it seemed on the outside. 

Mike tried to come up with the right words, words that didn’t make it sound like he really just didn’t want to go home anymore. It wasn’t entirely true. He loved his kids. He still loved Anna. She just didn’t understand that there were parts of him that she would never know. Could never know. “I just… I need to work, Ches, I always have things in my head. She just doesn’t understand. Not the way you do. You know what I mean, you’re like that, too. That’s why we’re always working when we’re home. It’s just part of us.”

Chester closed his eyes. “I _do_ know, Mikey, but… it’s not all about us. You and me,” he clarified, pointing between them. “And I think some of what upsets her is… me.” 

Before Mike could jump to deny what he knew was certainly true, breakfast showed up with an abrupt knock. He let Chester answer the door, bring in the tray, and set it on the small table in the sitting area while he tried to decide what to say next. He could smell the bacon already, and despite the conversation and the nerves still jumping in his body, Mike was ready to eat.

Chester pushed Mike’s plate and a cup of coffee over his direction, then picked up his own cup. “You didn’t get any food?” Mike asked, pointing his rolled silverware at Chester’s lone coffee mug.

“I’m not hungry,” Chester answered, staring at Mike over the top of the cup, watching as he placed his napkin in his lap and picked up his fork. 

“Let me know if you want anything,” Mike offered before he picked up his first piece of bacon. “Anna will be fine, Ches, we’ll be home in a few days, and it will all be back to normal. You know?” He watched Chester take a sip of his coffee and not answer him.

A strained silence fell over them as Mike pushed his eggs around on his plate, saving his other piece of bacon. _Surely this is not all about Anna. Or going home. Going home._ He looked up sharply, catching Chester’s eyes again. “Ches? What’s this really about? You said you wanted to talk, and you’ve been really quiet. You know Anna and I have this same argument all the time, every time I’m gone. So it’s not really that. What’s on your mind?” He squinted in thought. “Just say it, whatever it is. You’re worrying me.” 

Chester blew out a long breath. _Here it is. Here we go. I’m just gonna tell him we can’t do it anymore. I’m just going to say it, like he told me to. Just say it._ “I think… I think we’re being careless with our families, Mike. And I don’t just mean you, and I don’t just mean because of that phone call last night. But I don’t want to be the reason Anna yells at you, or the reason you forget to call home.”

“It’s not about you,” Mike said helplessly, his mind searching for ways to reassure them both that his shortcomings as a husband didn’t have anything to do with Chester. “It’s… it’s not,” he finished lamely, picking up his coffee cup.

“Mike. Listen to me.” Chester steadied his voice and looked Mike straight in the eyes. “I think we’ve gotten so used to being together all the time, so dependent on it… that when we go home we just stay in those patterns. That pattern of being on the road, of being together. Of _this_ ,” he tried to explain, throwing his arm out to gesture toward the bed as Mike set his fork down in the middle of his uneaten eggs and picked up his bacon. “I don’t know… I… I think we should start getting ready to go home. Back to the way things are meant to be, you know? Focus on the next two shows and start thinking about going home.” 

The look on Mike’s face, the confusion, followed by disbelief, caused Chester to hesitate for a second. _I can do this. I have to stop this. Family. His family. We can still have the band, we can still have each other, just not like this. Say it, Bennington._ “Mike, I… I think we should stop sleeping together.” _There. I did it. I said it._

Chester’s words were unexpected, and the force of them hit Mike in the heart as though the vocalist had shoved him with both hands. He didn’t even register the fact that his hand dropped to his plate, his bacon forgotten, as Chester’s guilty eyes skipped away and locked onto something outside, something unimportant considering the bomb he’d just dropped. In a matter of seconds, a tumble of thoughts went crashing through his mind. 

_He heard me and Anna arguing. And he thinks this - the way we are - is why. He’s right, but I’m not ready! I know this needs to stop, but I don’t want to! I could tell him, right now, that I’m in love with him. I could say it, but then what? If I tell him, it could get awkward. He doesn’t want to be next to me anymore. He’s right. No more late night talks when I should be talking to Anna. No more falling asleep with him… but how can I fall asleep without him?!_ Mike’s heart pinched with anxiety and loss, and he desperately wanted Chester to look at him so he could know if he was hurting, too.

_I know it’s more responsible this way. That I’ll be better for Anna when I get home. More attentive. I’ve been trying to be attentive for years, but all I can think about is Chester. Chester. Oh, Ches, I don’t want to stop._

Mike looked down at his plate, the two halves of himself warring with each other. _I know he’s right, I know he’s right, but it’s just two more nights. We only have two more nights, and then we’ll be home, and next tour we’ll just… stop. Ten years. Ten fucking years, and I love him._ He felt the dawn of awareness as his mind stopped on that declaration, his heart sinking. Chester had already made up his mind, decided on their path, without him.

_I’ve known this was coming, I felt it. Chester was just the one brave enough to say something. Ten years, and we’ve let it go too far. Ten years, and it’s come to this. It’s time to stop. We have to stop. I have to stop._

“You’re right,” Mike finally said, reaching to touch the back of Chester’s hand lightly with his fingertips. How he wanted to hold Chester’s hand, rub his thumb in circles over the other man’s palm as he had done for years… but something about Chester’s far-away gaze out the window stopped him. He looked down at his breakfast, at the half eaten piece of bacon, and pushed the plate away. He had to get up. He had to move away, to prove to himself he was strong enough. He could do it. He had to. Chester had decided this was how it was going to be. For once, Chester had been the one strong enough to do the right thing, where Mike hadn’t even tried to stop himself from sliding down the slippery slope he’d been on for years.

He stood up from the small table, refusing to look at Chester as he walked over to his suitcase. He could feel Chester’s eyes on his back as he fumbled around, looking for the comfortable, worn jeans with the ripped knees he wanted to wear. With a swallow, he tried to keep his own voice from wavering. “I’m gonna change, then we should go down with the guys.” _Out of this room. No more alone time in hotel rooms._

It was over. Whatever they’d had between them, it was over. Once the shock wore off, he’d be fine. He’d perfected the lie over so many years, that what they had was friendship and nothing more. He could pull himself back, he could keep up that façade. He had no choice. It was happening, and it was happening now. 

Mike heard Chester’s uncertain voice behind him, agreeing as he stepped into the bathroom. Clothes flung on the vanity, he locked the door and stood with his hands on the edge of the marble countertop, sucking in labored breaths and trying to calm his racing pulse. _It’s over. He’ll sleep in his bed tonight, and I’ll sleep in mine, and it won’t be any different than being at home. The way it should be. We’re just friends. Best friends, but only friends. I can do this. It was never going to go past sharing a bed anyway, Mike. You’re stupid to think that it ever could have. You’re married. You both are._

In the bedroom, Chester closed his eyes. _We’ll be fine. I’ve spent all these years pretending I only love him as my best friend. What’s a little more pretending?_ He stood up, grabbing his phone, and walked toward his room, stopping to knock softly at the bathroom door. “Mike? I’m going to go change real quick, just come to my room when you’re done.” He pretended not to hear the emcee’s sniff from the other side of the door.

“Got it,” Mike called, his voice falsely bright, too loud, and he fought back the tears that threatened to crush him. He held his breath until he heard Chester move away from the door, then he sank down to the floor, resting his forehead on his knees, gulping in air. 

He pretended to not feel the stinging behind his eyelids.

He pretended to not feel the ache in his heart.

He pretended he wasn’t going to breakdown right there in the hotel bathroom.

He pretended he didn’t know he’d be spending the rest of his life pretending. 

**fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that’s a horrible place to leave them, but it’s the morning of the first chapter of Confession. If you just can’t bear it, go read the first 5 chapters of Confession over again to soothe yourself a little bit. It's "Part One" of this series, the link is down below.
> 
> A very incredibly special thank you to @Penelope_Ink who has patiently listened to all my drama about this story for the last nine months. She’s really the reason this got finished, because there were many, many times that I was ready to quit because either the research or the subject matter was too hard. She has encouraged every chapter along the way, and I don’t think I can ever come up with the right words to say thank you for believing in me, and this story. I hope one day to be half the writer you are, friend. 
> 
> For everyone who has commented… my heartfelt thanks. Your encouragement has meant so much. 
> 
> For everyone who has lurked and never said a word… I appreciate you, too. Thank you for seeing this project through to the end.
> 
> Follow my Twitter if you want a notification when I post the first chapter of the third part: Forever, which is a true sequel to Confession. I’m lpfan503 on Twitter.
> 
> Now… it’s time to pop open this bottle of champagne - and no, I’m not kidding. :) Love you all!


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